


Mateo's Eight

by doctorbuffypotterlock79



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cons, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian AU, Mention of implied homophobia, Ocean's 8 AU, Prison References, assorted dumbassery, mild anxiety, my search history while writing this is probably concerning, this is my 2nd time writing B as a Cate Blanchett role and I regret nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22650433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorbuffypotterlock79/pseuds/doctorbuffypotterlock79
Summary: Con artist Vanessa Mateo has just been released from prison, and she's planning one last heist to erase her debts and start a new life for herself.But for this to succeed, she needs the help of the very person who ratted her out to the cops: her ex-girlfriend, Brooke Lynn Hytes.(An Ocean's Eight AU)
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 126
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been planning this for a while, and I'm excited to start posting! You also don't need to see the movie to read this. It follows the main points of the movie, but I did make some changes here and there. Thank you so, so much to Writ, for letting me throw this idea and all my plans for it at you, for always supporting this, and for beta-ing! I've never done a full-length movie adaptation like this before, so I would really appreciate any feedback you have!

The first thing Vanessa does when she gets out of prison is get a slice of pizza. 

Standing on the sidewalk in the black shirt she’d been wearing six months ago, too thin now for the late-winter chill, Vanessa gratefully burns her mouth on the cheese and lets grease drip down her wrist. She never thought she’d miss grease so much. She gets another slice and eats it in a few bites, crunching on the crust as loud as she can, breathing in the oregano and oil like it’s oxygen as winter sun warms her shoulders.

She’s home. She’s free. 

There’s enough money in the box of her just-returned things for a cab to her mother’s, where she’ll have to live now that going back to her old-- _their_ old--apartment isn’t an option. There’s a heart necklace in there too, but Vanessa doesn’t want to think about that. She shoves it in her pocket to sell later, because she might as well get some money out of the betrayal.

She knocks on the apartment door with still-greasy fingers, and the sight of her mother’s face, so much brighter without the Plexiglass barrier in between them, has her instantly sobbing in her mother’s arms. Vanessa hasn’t been able to touch her for six months, and finds her fingers moving down her mother’s skin, the same caramel color of her own, starting to wrinkle from stress more than age. Vanessa is hit with a surge of guilt that most of the stress is probably from her. 

“I’ve missed you, Vanjie.” It’s her mother’s old nickname for her, and Vanessa breaks down further. It gives her some glimmer of hope that everything will be okay, despite the medical bills she knows are lying around somewhere. Those thin pieces of paper have been following them for a year now, weighing down on their shoulders like a ton of bricks. 

“I’ve missed you too.”

It’s nice to just be Vanessa for a few minutes, to be her mother’s daughter, the girl who had Rihanna posters on her walls and acted out soap-opera storylines with her dolls and ran around the apartment dodging bedtime. 

She lets her mother kiss her until her face is more sticky lip gloss than skin. A loud yipping sound rings out, and something furry launches itself at her legs. Vanessa steps back and scoops up her dog, Riley, his tongue slobbering all over her and tail wagging fast enough to take flight. 

She’s home again. She’s _normal_ again. Maybe she’s not returning home to anything exciting, but everything smells like the perfume her mom wears, and the couch cushions are broken in just right, and the walls are still a soothing cream color. It always felt like time stood still here when she was a kid, everything always the same, but now she appreciates the stability, the sense that nothing has changed even if she’s been missing from this world for six months. 

Her mother heads to the store so they can have Vanessa’s favorite foods for dinner. Vanessa _wants_ to go, wants to do something as normal as grocery shopping, but she walks outside and gasps, heart hammering. 

She can’t do this. Everything seems too big after such a small cell. The massive gray-blue sky is large enough to swallow her up, the buildings like giants looming over her, the street as wide as the ocean. She resigns herself to the soft pink walls of her childhood bedroom. She resented this room as a child for being the size of a shoe-box, wanting the massive rooms kids always had on TV. She has never been more grateful for it than now, secure in its narrow walls. It’s like she can breathe again. 

The room is incomplete, missing most of her clothes, her makeup stuff, the fluffy bathrobe that usually hangs in her closet, the old silver jewelry box that was her mother’s. Those things were all in _their_ apartment, the apartment Silky and A’keria were supposed to go to and get the stuff for her, because Vanessa knew as soon she was hauled into the cop car that she wasn’t going back to that apartment again. 

She doesn’t want to do what she’s about to do, but she has to. 

She plugs in her long-dead cell phone and calls Silky and A’keria, who barge through her apartment door 10 minutes later and sweep her into a suffocating group hug. Vanessa’s not surprised to see A’keria wiping her eyes after, and her body burns with love for her two best friends. 

“You meet any hot lesbians like on _Orange is the New Black?_ ” Silky asks eagerly, and it’s just the thing to break the awkwardness of not knowing what to say, of the realization that Vanessa missed months of dinners and movies, that everyone’s lives moved on while hers was trapped in a cell. 

“Not one,” Vanessa says around a laugh. “But this one guard was totally into me. I coulda won her over, I bet. Had a little reunion on the beach, _Shawshank Redemption_ -style.”

“You got game even in prison,” A’keria says, smiling, and Vanessa is just grateful no one’s mentioning the person that landed her in prison. 

“I miss anything good?” Vanessa asks. 

“A’keria broke up with her bum-ass boyfriend,” Silky reports. 

“Even threw his clothes out the window,” A’keria says.

“Damn.” Vanessa sighs.

“You didn’t miss much else, though. Oh, and I got your stuff at my place.” A’keria reassures her. 

“Thanks.”

“It’s good to have you back, Vanj.” Her warm hand settles over Vanessa’s shoulder, and she’s not going to cry, she’s _not--_

“How’s it feel to be free again?” Silky asks.

“Good.” It’s all Vanessa can really manage, the fact that she can wake up and eat and even pee whenever she wants now something she’s still struggling to grasp. It only makes what she’s about to say even harder. 

“I have something planned,” Vanessa begins, bracing herself for the reaction. 

“Are you out your damn mind?” A’keria yells. “You’re on parole!”

“Say it louder, those people down the street missed it,” Vanessa bites out. 

“Look, Van--” Silky says.

“No,” Vanessa cuts her off. “I _need_ to do this. I spent six months on this. I know who the mark is gonna be, I know the people I need to scout and get involved, and I know this can work.” This plan is the only thing that got her through the past six months, working out the details and practicing the exact words needed to build her team while she choked down food that tasted like Styrofoam and wrecked her back on a sorry excuse for a bed. She needs to do this, because otherwise the past six months have really been a waste. 

Vanessa plows on, laying down the words she knows will get them. “It’s even bigger than the last one. Money I need. Money _you_ need. Enough to set us all for life.”

Silky crosses her arms and stays silent. It’s no secret Silky is constantly in danger of losing her teaching job with all the budget cuts the school faces. She’d taken up street scams and pickpocketing--skills she taught Vanessa--to pay off her student loans and buy supplies and snacks for her classroom, which have to come out of her own (or some unsuspecting person’s) pocket. 

A’keria lowers the index finger she was about to wag in Vanessa’s face like some old schoolteacher, no doubt thinking of her home jewelry business that never took off, the dead-end jewelry store job that keeps her home with her overbearing mother and asshole stepfather. With the money Vanessa’s talking, A’keria can buy her own damn island. 

“We’re listening,” Silky says finally. 

Vanessa fights her grin as she runs through the basics, alive with the familiar buzz of laying down a plan, watching it come to life from her mind. She doesn’t mention the full price tag but tells them both all their financial problems will be solved in one night. 

By the time she’s done, they’re both onboard, and the fun begins. 

\---

Vanessa has to take deep breaths, her nails digging into A’keria’s arm as they walk down the sidewalk to get her next member in. 

“You good, V?” A’keria asks gently. 

Vanessa just nods, because this breathless fear of being outside when it was all she dreamed of for six months isn’t something she expected, or knows how to deal with. All she can do is keep breathing, keep moving, keep focusing on her plan. 

She’s chosen all the players carefully, people she knows herself or knows through others. They’re not all scammers, just people with enough to lose, who can be easily persuaded into her plan and can be trusted to carry out their end of the plan.

The storefront is outlined in red, flowy dresses in reds and pinks and golds filling the window, some brightness on this dreary street. A bell chimes as they open the door, welcoming them to Red Hot by Scarlet Envy. 

Scarlet is perched behind the counter, twirling her bright red hair. Vanessa’s only met her once at a party, but she hasn’t changed, still happy with her up-and-coming celebrity design label despite the debt and shady loans she buried herself in to make it happen. 

After a hug from Scarlet, Vanessa begins just as she planned. “How would you like to dress Plastique Tiara for the Met Ball?”

Scarlet’s eyes widen. “Are you kidding me? I’d love to! But she’s Plastique, and I’m, well...” she gestures to her small store with its water-damaged ceiling. 

Vanessa smiles. “I can make it happen. I just need one small favor. One small favor for me, and you dress Plastique Tiara, you get a bigger store, and”--Vanessa lowers her voice-- “all the money troubles you got yourself in are gone.”

Scarlet blinks, mouth falling open, not even bothering to deny Vanessa’s information. 

“Okay,” she agrees. 

Yvie takes mere seconds, despite being the only person Vanessa has no dirt on to coerce into it. She’s an old friend of Silky’s who does stuff with computers, so far beyond Vanessa’s basic social media stalking skills that she doesn’t even try to understand it. They meet at some internet cafe and Vanessa is only one sip into the overpriced coffee she missed so much when Yvie agrees, saying she’d love to stick it to the man and asking if there’ll be snacks at the meeting tomorrow. Vanessa makes a mental note to buy chips.

Nina is a little harder to convince. She has a nice house in the suburbs, working over-the-phone scams and hijacking deliveries from transport trucks--blenders, coffeemakers, designer suitcases, bikes, air hockey tables--that she keeps or sells for profit. 

Aside from the scamming, she’s goodness personified, the last person you’d suspect of anything, perfect for what Vanessa needs from her. 

“Well,” Nina says, “I could use a little excitement.” 

Vanessa puts a check mark next to her name. 

\---

Vanessa scrapes her plate clean at dinner, her mother’s cooking the last thing that truly makes her at home, comforting and cozy like a warm blanket. The joy continues as she slides into bed, on a _real_ mattress, ready to fall asleep with the hope of the freedom she’s getting herself, until she remembers the last name on her list. She doesn’t want to call this person. She _can’t_ call this person, and instead she calls A’keria to see if there’s a way around it. 

“Tell me the truth,” Vanessa begins. “Do I need to call her?”

“Who? You mean Br--”

“Don’t say her name to me,” Vanessa snaps. 

“I know things didn’t end well with you two--”

“She ratted me out to the cops! I went to prison because of her!” The anger burns through her, fresh on the thought that she went to prison by not just anyone, but by someone she had slept with and kissed and even loved. Six months of itchy clothes and a freezing cell, of having to see her own mother through a screen, of feeling absolutely worthless, of missing family dinners and not seeing her friends, all because that bitch couldn’t keep her mouth shut. 

“Hey,” A’keria says calmly. “I know that. I know. But you have to call her, Vanj. She’s your right-hand woman. We can’t pull this off without her. You know we can’t.”

A’keria is right, which only makes things worse. Vanessa needs to call her. No one can keep things organized like her, stick exactly to the schedule like a human clock. Vanessa can pretend all she wants that this plan will work as it stands, but she knows in her heart she needs to make that one last phone call. 

\---

_Vanessa strides to the counter confidently, trying not to act like the coats in her arms are worth a whole month’s rent. Being calm is the key, like she buys coats with three zeros in the price tag all the time._

_“Hello.” She keeps her voice soft and polite as she approaches the counter._

_“Hi,” the cashier says. She’s around twenty and Vanessa has been watching for a few days to make sure she gets this specific cashier. One who’s new, but not new enough to need a manager._

_“I’d like to return these.” Vanessa plunks the coats on the counter, rehearsing her answer for the next inevitable question._

_“Do you have your receipt?”_

_“I don’t, but I never wore them. They still have the tags and everything.” She even grabs one and shows it to the cashier, who smiles sympathetically, having no idea Vanessa just grabbed it off the rack a few minutes ago._

_“We really need a receipt to return them. Do you have an account with us? Or the credit card you bought them with?”_

_Now is the time. Vanessa has seen enough middle-aged white ladies with expired coupons in her own retail days to get this next part right. She purses her lips and straightens her posture. “I’ve been shopping here for years, this is ridiculous! I just bought these.” Just a touch of anger, not enough to attract attention._

_“I’m sorry, ma’am. If you’d like to speak with customer service—“_

_Vanessa loosens her shoulders, putting a smile back on. “You know what, I’ll just keep them. Could I trouble you for a bag?”_

_Vanessa walks away from the counter with her coats neatly folded inside the bag, heart racing and giddy with joy. She did it. She can sell two and start working on her father’s medical bills, and maybe give the third to her mother; her worn coat can’t offer much warmth in this November chill. She’s so lost in her excitement that she doesn’t notice where she’s going and walks right into a wall._

_“Shit.” She takes a step back. A very tall, very blonde, very green-eyed wall. “Oh, sorry, I…” she forgets every word in the English language, forgets even her own name, at the blonde’s shy smile._

_“You were good. Really good,” the blonde says, and something in her reluctant tone suggests she doesn’t give compliments often, that this praise truly means something._

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vanessa tries to stay cool, even as the blonde’s flashing green eyes set her whole body on fire. She had only prepared for getting caught at the register, not by strange blonde women._

_“A cashier who wouldn’t need a manager. Waiting towards the end of a shift, when no one gives a shit anymore,” the blonde continues. “Even the coats. Expensive, but not enough to have security tags on them.”_

_She’s caught. Caught on her first real con, aside from the street scams she’s done. Vanessa swallows hard, considering her chances of outrunning the blonde’s mile-long legs in their slim red pants. Damn, Vanessa really needs to stop staring at those legs if this lady is about to bust her..._

_“Hey, I’m not gonna rat you out,” the blonde says, like she’s reading her mind. “I’m just saying you’re good, and if you ever want a partner…” She pulls a piece of paper from her glittery silver blazer and scribbles something down._

_Vanessa reads a phone number in tiny, neat handwriting._

_“I’ll consider it,” Vanessa says, though she’ll probably have to sit on her hands to keep herself from calling the second she gets home._

_The blonde smiles. “I’m Brooke.”_

_“Vanessa.”_

\---

Vanessa holds out as long as she can, until it’s nearing 1am, moonlight arcing through her window. It’s almost like she’s purposely sabotaging herself, waiting and waiting to lower the chance that someone will answer. 

Her thumb hovers over the phone. The contact name is still in there as it was before prison, with a bright red heart emoji after it. Vanessa remembers deliberating over putting it there, finally deciding it was okay after their second date. 

Aside from her mother’s cell and the really good Thai place down the street from her old apartment, it’s the only phone number she has memorized. She could probably dial it in her sleep. She used to double- and triple-text that number, sending pictures of dogs she saw on the street, selfies in bed with the comforter revealing _just_ enough skin, rants about how slow everyone in front of her was walking, goofy pictures of herself trying on enormous sunglasses bigger than her head. 

And the replies used to come just as fast, Vanessa’s heart leaping with each one, her fingers flying to the phone to see what texts she’d gotten back. 

She presses the call button, breath caught in her throat, half hoping there won’t be an answer and half-hoping there will be. 

All she gets is a robotic monotone telling her this number is no longer in service, and Vanessa releases her air, unsure if she’s relieved or not. She really doesn’t want to hear that voice, but she’s going to need to if she wants this to work. Should she try to Google her? Or maybe…

The burner phone. 

They had both discussed business through those old Nokias. The odds that she still has hers, and still has the thing on, are slim to none. But Vanessa thinks of how hard it will be to find a job now, how hard it will be to start over after prison. She thinks of her mother working too hard in her hospital shifts, the medical bills still unpaid. She thinks of all the people she had promised this would be a success, all the debts that would be repaid, all the freedoms won. She has to try. 

Her fingers move without thought over the phone, like just another day, and she almost drops the phone when it rings. The rings trill in her ear for what feels like hours, her heart racing. She’s about to hang up when the line clicks. 

There’s a pause, a sharp intake of breath on the other line. Vanessa remembers those gasps of air, had pulled them out of soft lips as her hands tangled in that blonde hair...

“Who is this?” 

_The nerve_. Vanessa’s fist clenches in anger. If it wasn’t a Nokia, she probably would’ve bent her phone in half. The nerve for that voice to be so soft and hesitant, when it had caused her half a year behind bars. The nerve of asking who it is when she knows damn well it can’t be anyone else. 

“You know who this is, Brooke. We need to talk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Vanessa began setting up a heist and was forced to call her ex, who ratted her out to the cops  
> Now: Brooke answers a phone call from Vanessa, who she hasn't spoken to in six months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your feedback on chapter 1 and interest in this so far! It really helped encourage me and I hope you can leave some more on this chapter. Thank you to Writ for being the most amazing beta!

Brooke has a million reasons not to answer that phone. 

Hell, she has a million reasons why she should have thrown the thing away in the first place. 

But she didn’t. 

She’s not only held on to the phone, but has also kept it fully charged in her bedside table, along with the pictures of her and Vanessa that hurt to look at, for six months.

Brooke had stared at it for hours after _that day_ , the day when everything came crashing down around her. When the life they had imagined went up in smoke. After they released her from the police station, Brooke had dialed Vanessa’s number until her fingers ached and that number was the only thing in her head, trying to explain what happened, why she did it, even when she knew Vanessa wouldn’t answer, would never answer again because of what Brooke had done to her. 

Brooke should have thrown the phone away then and there, killed her last connection to Vanessa, the same way she’s tried to kill her feelings. She’s succeeded for the most part, except for when she rolls over in bed, expecting to meet warmth and finding cold, empty space, when she goes four blocks out of her way to avoid the diner, when she automatically reaches for creamer in the grocery store even though she takes her coffee black. 

She’s wide awake--Brooke doesn’t think she’s slept through the night in six months, when she started sleeping alone again--when the ringing tears through the room and makes her heart stop. That clunky Nokia would buzz in Brooke’s pocket and signal the start of a con, one they had built together in the diner, taking notes and picking steps apart as their feet in their scammed-for boots wrapped around each other under the table. 

There’s no way anyone but Vanessa could be calling that phone. But why now? Why at all? 

Brooke does some quick math in her head. It’s been six months since that day. Vanessa must be out of prison now. Could she really be calling Brooke after what she did? Brooke knows Vanessa won’t easily forgive something like that, if she’ll forgive it at all. 

But she’s still calling, and there has to be a reason. 

If this is a chance for Brooke to explain herself, tell Vanessa the secret she was hiding for all those months--the secret that forced her into confessing--she has to take it. At least it will help Brooke sleep better if Vanessa knows the truth. 

“Who is this?”

\---

 _Brooke frowns at the unfamiliar number on her phone screen. She barely answers the phone for people she_ does _know, but she takes the chance and picks up anyway._

_“Hello?” She asks._

_“Brooke?”_

_“Yeah, um, who is this?” The voice is strangely familiar, with a roughness that makes Brooke’s heart pound._

_“It’s Vanessa. You know, from the store?” Her question quirks up with hope at the end._

_The phone almost slips through Brooke’s hands. She orders herself to stay calm despite the excitement burning through her, the endless possibilities on the other end of this call._

_“Oh, hey, Vanessa,” Brooke says._

_“Hey.” Is it just Brooke, or she can hear the smile in Vanessa’s voice? She pictures Vanessa’s bright teeth flashed in a grin for no one to see._

_“So,” Brooke recovers herself quickly, “would you like to do something tonight?”_

_\---_

_“How long have you been doing this stuff?” Brooke asks. Vanessa hovers around Brooke’s shoulder but is loud enough for Brooke to hear even with the honking cars and endless bustle of people._

_“That day you found me was my first big one,” Vanessa admits sheepishly. “Before that it was just street stuff with my friend Silky. Three card Monte, that kinda thing.”_

_“Seriously?” Brooke asks. She leads Vanessa into a department store, their arms brushing quickly and making Brooke wish they could stay that way forever, that her arm could always feel the tingles of Vanessa against her. “I would've never guessed that was your first. You were so natural.”_

_“I was screamin’ on the inside, Mary,” Vanessa says. “I thought I was gonna piss myself a few times.”_

_Brooke snorts and nudges Vanessa toward the purses, gesturing at them all. “Pick a purse. Any purse.”_

_“You sound like a magician.” Vanessa giggles. “You got a magic wand and a cape somewhere?”_

_“Maybe,” Brooke teases. “I do have some tricks up my sleeve.”_

_“Will I ever get to see any of ‘em?” There’s a definite flirty tone to Vanessa’s question, one that makes Brooke’s cheeks flush and her mouth dry._

_“Maybe,” she says with a nervous smile._

_Vanessa raises her eyebrow and Brooke’s knees weaken. “Any purse I want?” Vanessa checks._

_Brooke nods. She watches with a smile as Vanessa stalks among the purses like a lion after its prey, stroking the faux-leather and modelling them in the mirror. There’s such easy confidence in the way she moves, like she’s going to take up all the space she wants and everyone else just has to get out of her way. Brooke could watch her for days._

_“This one.” Vanessa triumphantly hands Brooke a scarlet purse crisscrossed with little black studs._

_Brooke peeks at the name and designer on the tag, blinking in shock at the number of zeros, then beckons Vanessa to follow her upstairs, looking down into the purse department from the second-floor balcony._

_“Watch,” Brooke commands, enjoying herself maybe too much, wanting to show off a little for Vanessa. Vanessa’s brown eyes roam over her skin and Brooke’s whole body heats up._

_Brooke calls the purse department, adjusts her voice, and begins. “Hi, this is Elizabeth Smith. Account number 415793. Can you get me this purse”--she gives the details she memorized from the tag-- “and have it ready at the counter? My assistant will be there in a few minutes to pick it up. Just charge it to my store card. Sorry for the rush, it’s a present for someone and I’m late.”_

_Vanessa stares at her with an open mouth as the cashier takes the purse, rings it up, and bags it. Brooke then walks downstairs and pretends to be Elizabeth Smith’s assistant, returning upstairs and handing the bag to a still open-mouthed Vanessa. Brooke can’t help but smile. She’s never had someone else to share in the thrill of it all with her, someone to put her skills to use for._

_“You must’ve been at this a while, then,” Vanessa says finally._

_“A few months.” Brooke doesn’t want to talk about what stole her hope and pushed her into this, why she has so many bills. She doesn’t want to talk about the box under her bed where she stashes money in the hopes of affording a good lawyer one day. She’s just not ready for Vanessa to know yet._

_“Well, you’re a pro.”_

_“I like the planning of it, I guess,” Brooke says, face flushing at the praise. Planning and organizing has calmed her since she was a kid, rearranging stuffed animals and alphabetizing books to drown out her parents arguing. A way of getting the control she didn't have in her big, cold house. “Writing it all out, making sure it’ll work. That’s how I came up with this one. I was here yesterday. I heard Elizabeth Smith giving her info at the counter and planned it out,” Brooke explains._

_“Holy shit,” Vanessa mumbles. “Well, thank you.”_

_Her awestruck eyes look up at Brooke, and the sheer joy of making Vanessa happy hits right in Brooke’s heart. It’s something she wants to experience forever._

_“Hey,” Brooke says. “Um, next week, do you--can I take you on a date? A real date, with dinner and no scams?”_

_Vanessa smiles. “I’d like that.”_

\---

“I have something planned,” Vanessa says.

That’s the absolute last thing Brooke expected, especially when Vanessa hasn’t even been out of prison 24 hours yet, and it’s a few seconds before she can muster up words through her shock. 

“No.” Brooke has given all that up, given up the schemes and lies and the designer clothes she scammed herself into. She’s lived a perfectly normal, perfectly safe (perfectly boring) life the past six months, another way to separate herself from the old life she had with Vanessa. She told herself she would never con again, that she would just chip away at her debts and the ever-rising interest rates using her paycheck from the dance studio like everyone else. No cons, no scams, no lies. (And no hope of ever freeing herself of those bills).

“It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever thought of. I need you to see this through.”

Vanessa needs her. 

Those words would have once sent Brooke running no matter what time it was or what Vanessa needed. There were mornings when she woke early and the sun hit Vanessa’s face just right, and suddenly an angel was wrapped in the white sheets of Brooke’s bed. It was times like those that Brooke would have harnessed the damn moon and pulled it down if that was what Vanessa wanted. 

“No.”

“I know you still have bills. They could all be gone in one night.” Vanessa was always quicker to show her emotions than Brooke was, feelings passing across her face and bursting in each word. She’s trying to keep them out here, trying to lure Brooke in with cool logic, but there’s a hint of desperation in her tone that she can’t quite conceal. 

All her bills gone in one night. Brooke can’t let herself consider that possibility, because she doesn’t need this danger. But the relief of having her bills paid off, never having to worry about how to pay for groceries and electricity, is growing too great to resist. She’s been conning almost two years, saving money where she can in the hopes of paying things off, all of it feeling like one huge battle she'll never win. One night could end that battle.

Brooke feels the itch tugging at her fingers, the thrill pulsing in her heart, the urge in her to just forget her boring life and rob someone blind, to send a giant middle finger to the universe that let her sink into tens of thousands of dollars in debt for medical bills when the assholes she conned had garages full of collectible million-dollar cars that collected nothing but dust. 

Some part of her _wants_ to do it, wants to fight for something again, wants to win. She didn’t fight hard enough when it counted in court, wasn't able to win against her ex-husband, and he took the person she loves more than anyone. Vanessa is promising big money, probably enough for her to take him back to court and win. 

But if this is the biggest thing Vanessa’s ever thought of, the risk must be astronomical. Vanessa always saw the reward, jumping into danger for the rush of the prize. Brooke was always stuck with the responsibility of seeing the risk, putting a net under each of Vanessa’s jumps, preparing for a fall. It had suited her--suited _them_ \--Vanessa with the drive to make it happen and Brooke with the meticulous nature to make sure it would work. 

“No,” Brooke says for the third time, cursing herself inwardly for her stupid idea that Vanessa called to hear her side of things, that there was even a chance Vanessa still loves her. But it’s a lot harder for that refusal to come out than the other two. 

“I didn’t want to do this…” Vanessa sighs, “but who’s to say I don’t go back to the cops and let them know who my accomplice was?”

Brooke stills, heartbeat in her ears. “You wouldn’t do that,” she manages around the lump of fear in her throat. The normal life she created for herself, the future she sometimes allows herself to dream of, everything she’s worked for, would all be ruined, just like that. Just like she had ruined Vanessa’s life. 

Vanessa laughs bitterly. “Wouldn’t I? ‘Cause you did the exact same thing to me. After you _promised_ you would always protect me.” Vanessa’s anger jumps through the phone and slaps Brooke in the face, but there’s a touch of pain under there. A touch of hurt in trusting the wrong person. 

Brooke deserves it, she knows she does. But she can’t bear to have Vanessa in pain, especially when she caused it, even if she knows she had to do what she did. If only she could explain it, try to make Vanessa understand that Brooke never wanted to hurt her. 

“Vanessa, I—”

“You help me, you get the money, and I stay quiet. I think you kind of owe me, don’t you?” Vanessa poses the final blow, and Brooke’s resolve crumbles. If she can do this for Vanessa, they can at least be even after what happened last August. They’ll each get their money and go their separate ways, though hearing Vanessa’s voice again makes Brooke realize how much she’s missed it, and she’s not sure she _wants_ to go her separate way. 

“How much?” Brooke asks. 

Vanessa whispers the number in her ear. 

_Damn it._ With that kind of money she can get rid of her debts once and for all, even with the interest. She won’t ever have to choose between paying the water or electricity bill, or silence her rumbling stomach when she smells fresh bread from a bakery. She can buy a nice house, set up a flower garden and a vegetable patch--hell, with that money she could buy a mansion with a freaking fountain in front--away from the dust and noise of the city, instead of this apartment that smells like fish and is barely big enough to fit her, sometimes suffocating in its size. It’s more than enough for a strong lawyer to help get Zoey back.

Brooke looks at the picture on her nightstand, blonde hair and blue eyes smiling back at her.

“I’m in,” Brooke says.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Brooke agreed to work with Vanessa  
> Now: Vanessa goes through the plan of the heist as her team meets for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback on this so far! I would really appreciate it if you could comment on this chapter. Your support means so much to me and helps encourage me. A thousand thank you's to Writ for being the best beta!

Vanessa is up at the crack of dawn her first full day as a free woman, hoping she’ll return to her old ways of sleeping until 10 soon, especially now that she no longer has her job at the makeup store. Going to prison doesn’t help in the job department, and it makes her feel even worse that her mom is working a double shift today. Sometimes she would be so exhausted she’d fall asleep still in her nursing scrubs, and Vanessa wants more than ever to make things easier for her.

Her bed is too soft to leave, like a giant marshmallow beneath her. She’s buried under so many blankets it makes her sweat, but she’s too cozy under their fluffy softness to kick them off. 

She eats her cereal with an eye on the clock as her mom rushes to get ready, each minute dragging like time itself is stuck in quicksand. 

The second her mom leaves for work, with more kisses heaped on Vanessa’s cheek, she shoots up from the table and gets the place ready. It’s like how she used to wait for her parents to go out for the night so she could have friends over, right down to the soda and chips and pretzels she sets out for Yvie, only this time they’re discussing a million-dollar heist instead of post-prom plans. Hopefully the apartment won’t be trashed after, but you never know with Silky. 

A’keria and Silky arrive first, lugging boxes and bags of Vanessa’s stuff that they had taken from her and Brooke’s apartment. Vanessa tears through them, grabbing her fuzzy slippers and running her hands over the smooth jewelry box, like she’s regaining part of herself in the clothes and jewelry and dog mug.

She digs up a gray sweatshirt much too big for her, because of course one of Brooke’s things got mixed in. Vanessa used to steal the sweatshirt from Brooke’s dresser and wear it to bed in the winter, the thing so warm and oversized it was like being wrapped in a giant blanket. She’d tuck her arms inside the sleeves and bury her nose in the soft fabric, breathing in the smell of Brooke’s lavender body wash and another calming, cozy scent that was just _Brooke_ , no way to describe it or how safe it made her feel. Vanessa wonders what it smells like now-- 

A knock on the door tears her away. Yvie and Scarlet try to hide grins as they stand together, mumbling that getting here at the same time is a coincidence, but Scarlet has purple lipstick in the corner of her lip when no one wears purple lipstick but Yvie. 

Nina teeters in with a box of donuts that she passes out to everyone like a white, suburban Oprah, refusing to sit until she makes sure everyone has been fed. 

“Is anyone else coming?” Yvie asks. “These are good chips, by the way,” she mumbles, pulling the bowl from Silky’s lap into her own. 

Vanessa meets A’keria’s eyes. “Just one more,” Vanessa says, pacing around the living room. Brooke said she was coming. Vanessa’s careful combination of money and threats had gotten her, like she knew they would. If not for the money so Brooke could take care of those bills just as big as Vanessa’s, then to cover her own ass. 

“Hi.” Brooke appears out of nowhere, still graceful as ever, her steps silent on the creaky apartment floor. 

Vanessa digs her nails into her palms to stamp out the rage. Brooke is _here_. She’s in Vanessa’s apartment, standing there, and it’s all she can do not to punch her in the face. 

“What the hell?” Silky asks.

“Sorry I’m late.” Brooke squeaks. 

Vanessa scoffs. It was impossible for Brooke Lynn Hytes to be late. She had probably been born on her exact due date clutching a watch in her little fist, motioning for the doctors to hurry up. It was why, as much as a pain in the ass she was about it, their cons always worked, Brooke timing everything with perfection. 

“You weren’t late,” Vanessa shoots back. “You were the first one here, but you went around the block a million times ‘cause you’re a coward and didn’t want to show up first.”

A’keria chokes on her soda and Scarlet whacks her on the back.

“Donut?” Nina offers Brooke. 

“I’ll take another,” Yvie says. 

Out of the corner of Vanessa’s eye, Silky tries to casually sweep up the chocolate donut crumbs she got all over the couch. 

Vanessa just sighs, because this is her team, for better or worse. 

“I’m here now,” Brooke says cautiously, cheeks tinged pink. 

“Yeah, you are.” Vanessa allows herself one look at the person who betrayed her. 

She looks good, as much as Vanessa doesn’t want to admit it. Brooke still manages to make skinny jeans and a black sweater look like they came straight off the runway, making Vanessa’s heart lift as she forces it down. Brooke’s tired, though. Vanessa can see it, knows to look in her eyes, where she couldn’t hide the exhaustion that makeup and her perfect posture concealed. Her long fingers play with her sweater cuff and her lip is chewed-up, both signs of nerves. Good. If Vanessa’s caused Brooke sleepless nights and fidgety fingers and burning lips, it’s only what she deserves. 

Brooke sits on the couch and pulls out her notebook. That damn notebook. It’s covered in little cartoon cats, because Brooke loves cats, had wanted to adopt one eventually. _Who cares what she loves_ , Vanessa reminds herself. _She certainly didn’t love you._ But that doesn’t matter. Brooke is in her debt now, and Vanessa is in control. 

“So,” Vanessa begins, feeling like a teacher in front of the class, especially as she turns on the TV connected to her laptop, “I have a plan. 

“In three weeks, the Met is hosting a ball for their new historical costume and jewelry exhibit. Place is gonna be crawling with money. And I want to steal. Not the Met, but one necklace.”

“A necklace?” Yvie asks in confusion. “What are we, ten-year-old’s in Claire’s?”

“Hold all questions for the end, please,” Vanessa snaps. 

She brandishes her arm for dramatic effect and clicks the next slide on her laptop. “The actress Plastique Tiara will be at the event, in a dress designed by Scarlet--” Scarlet waves to the room like a Disney princess on parade, “--who will convince Plastique to wear this 112 million dollar diamond necklace.”

Everyone blinks in confusion as Vanessa brings up a slide featuring the necklace, but she plows on. “Using our combined skills, we will get in the ball, take the necklace, replace it with a worthless copy, and leave with 16 million dollars each.”

Vanessa grins smugly in the chorus of gasps that ring out and fade into awestruck silence. She can see everyone’s heads spinning, comprehending a number they--and most people--have never seen, taking in the freedom that number will give them, freedom they’ve never had. The freedom to live where they want and do what they want, to never have to worry about medical bills or loans or home repairs or emergencies. 

The only sound is the scratching of Brooke’s pen. The glide of her pen used to be like music to Vanessa’s ears, and she could trace the gentle curves of Brooke’s neat handwriting for hours. Now, it just sets her teeth on edge, makes her burn with aggravation. 

Nina is the first to speak. “Pardon my French, everyone,” she says, “but holy _fuck._ ”

\---

_It only takes Vanessa about ten minutes into her date with Brooke to see that beneath her cool, calm exterior, she’s really just an adorable dork._

_That easy grace Brooke had moved with in the department store flies out the window as she nearly trips over her own giraffe legs to open the door for Vanessa, and she gasps in excitement when she finds out the diner serves breakfast all day._

_“You a breakfast for dinner person?” Vanessa asks._

_Brooke nods eagerly. “Why, are you a dinner-foods-for-dinner person?”_

_“Nah. I’m all for eating whatever I want at any time of day.”_

_“Exactly!” Brooke’s eyes sparkle and it makes Vanessa’s heart soar. “Like, what makes bacon and eggs only breakfast food?”_

_“Yeah! If I want pancakes for dinner and pizza for breakfast, who’s gonna stop me?” Vanessa claps eagerly as their plates arrive, French toast and bacon for Brooke and grilled cheese with fries for Vanessa._

_Vanessa grabs the ketchup and drenches her fries._

_“You put ketchup over the fries?” Brooke asks in horror._

_“Yeah, why?”_

_“You have to dip them! There’s no control over how much ketchup you get per fry when you put it on top!”_

_“I just want to put it all on at once, Mary!”_

_Brooke shakes her head. “Unbelievable. Next you’ll be telling me you put the milk in before the cereal.” But she grins around her mouthful of bacon._

_“Of course I don’t put the milk first. I’m not an animal.” Vanessa laughs and holds a ketchup-soaked fry out to Brooke, which she pulls from Vanessa’s fingers with her teeth. Vanessa can’t even breathe at having Brooke this close to her, close enough to see tiny flecks of gray in her green eyes, which only popped out in certain lighting._

_“So, um, where do you work?” Brooke asks._

_“I do makeup at one of the beauty stores,” Vanessa answers. “Most people tip pretty good, but it ain’t enough to pay the bills we got, y’know?”_

_“Is that why you started conning? If it’s okay for me to ask that?” Brooke says._

_“It’s okay. And yeah. My dad, he was...he was sick. Insurance barely covered anything, and the medical bills just kept piling up. He died a few months ago, and we still got the medical bills, and the funeral bills, and...it’s a lot.” Vanessa just shakes her head. She and her mother both work full-time and hardly make a dent in the bills after rent and utilities. She doesn’t understand how her father getting sick, through no fault of his own, could result in almost $100,000 worth of debt. It’s like trying to bring down a mountain one pebble at a time, with the mountain growing each day, too big to see the top._

_“I’m really sorry,” Brooke says. Her hand hesitantly slides across the table, and Vanessa doesn’t even think of whether she should, whether they’re at that point yet, before she grabs it. It’s cool and solid and soft, helping her focus on something besides bills and dead fathers._

_“It’s okay,” Vanessa says. She and her mother have helped each get through his illness and his passing, and she feels awful for thinking it, but it’s made them closer, united in the memories of the man they both lost._

_“It makes me mad, you know?” Brooke’s eyes flicker with intensity. “That we still work and have to do this just to get by. I have medical bills too, and the heat broke in my apartment last week and I had to do a scam just to pay for the repair, even though I teach full-time at a dance studio. Some people don’t have to worry about that. Some people--”_

_“Some people buy freaking yachts ‘cause they’re outta shit to buy,” Vanessa says._

_“Yes!” Brooke exclaims. “You really get it. Get me.” Her eyes shine in surprise, like she can’t believe what she just said, but Vanessa has already thought it._

_“Yeah,” Vanessa agrees, reaching over to snatch a piece of Brooke’s bacon. “And if you ever have heating problems again, my place is really warm. Maybe you could even show me some dance moves.” She bats her eyelashes._

_It’s a risk to throw something like out there, especially on a first date, but Brooke’s smile is all the reward Vanessa needs._

\---

Vanessa stands tall in her living room, everyone on the couches still recovering from her announcement, hisses of _16 million_ slipping into Vanessa’s ears. 

“Can I talk to you?”

Vanessa sighs. Leave it to Brooke to interrupt her moment of blissful triumph for questions. Vanessa leads her down the hall, grumbling about buzzkills under her breath. 

She crosses her arms and stands expectantly in front of Brooke, raising an eyebrow to show that she’s not giving an inch in this, that Brooke better stop raking a hand through her hair and speak. 

“So, do they know?” Brooke begins. 

“Know what?”

“What the real mark is,” Brooke says. “I know you. I can see the bigger target here.”

 _I know you_. 

Vanessa can’t help but feel that rush of warmth at Brooke knowing her so well, remembering that connection she and Brooke once had, when they could look at each other and have entire conversations with eyebrow-raises and smirks. Brooke always knew her plans, always got what she was trying to do like no one else. It had been a relief back then, to have someone she could trust, who just _knew her_ , knew her coffee order and favorite movies and how to cheer her up when she was upset. A comfort to know she wasn’t alone, that she had someone. 

But now, it’s infuriating. That she had given all those parts of her to Brooke, and now Brooke would always have them even when Vanessa wants to take them back. Like no matter how clever she thinks she is, Brooke can see right through her. Vanessa can never free herself from that connection they had, a connection Brooke severed clean in a police station six months ago. 

“They don’t,” Vanessa admits, “And I’m not gonna tell them. It’s safer that way. Less chance of someone _giving me up_.” She spits the last three words at Brooke with the strongest death glare she’s ever managed. If looks could kill, the whole street would be dead. Brooke at least has the decency to look embarrassed, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows. 

“Vanessa, I never meant--”

Vanessa raises her hand to shush Brooke. “Don’t. Just don’t. Go over your notes, tell me if it’ll work. You do your job, I pay you, and I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“Okay.”

Now it’s Brooke’s turn to stand, still as a statue, notebook outstretched in a gloat. Her face is impassive even though Vanessa knows how much she needs this money, and steam nearly comes out of her ears. Brooke can stand here all day, with those stupid dancer legs of hers, and Vanessa needs to move this along and get back to her group before Silky and A’keria have a repeat of last year’s pillow fight.

“So, tell me. Is this gonna work?” Vanessa finally cracks, ignoring how Brooke’s smile makes her own lips twitch up, a muscle memory. 

“It can work, yes. But…”

“But what?”

“This is risky. It’s risky, and intricate, and if I’m sticking my neck out like this, I want to be involved, so I can make sure this is done properly.”

The words slam into Vanessa, filling her with rage. Brooke didn’t trust her to do this, when Vanessa had planned the entire thing herself, foresaw every possible conclusion and solved every possible problem while behind the bars Brooke put her in. Brooke didn’t trust her, when they had once trusted each other with everything. 

“Pretty rich of you to not trust me when you’re the one who ratted me out,” Vanessa says. 

Brooke sighs. “Vanessa--”

“Whatever. You want to be involved how? You’re gonna be there the night of the ball, what else do you want?” Vanessa demands, certain she doesn’t like where this is going. 

“I want to be there when you make most of the moves,” Brooke says. 

“ _Hell_ no! I’m not lettin’ you breathe down my neck the whole time!” 

“You have a lot to do,” Brooke argues. “You need to schedule a meeting with Scarlet and Plastique to make sure Plastique wears the necklace. _Vogue_ has already starting hiring ball assistants and I’m assuming you’re gonna send Nina inside, so you need to get her an interview--”

“I know what I have to do!” Vanessa snaps, reluctantly impressed at how fast Brooke’s mind works, how quickly she put the pieces together. Brooke saw cons as puzzles, each step an interlocking piece to build the picture Vanessa dreamed, her focus more on the goal and how her charm could get them there. 

“Then you also know you need me,” Brooke states. No emotion, no hint of desire, just pure, hard fact. “The organization this is gonna take, the scheduling...you need me.”

Vanessa clenches her fists. She had tried to downplay her desperation on the phone, but obviously Brooke picked up on it. Vanessa might be able to do this without Brooke, but can she take that chance on something this big, this important, this life-changing? 

“Fine.” Vanessa sighs. “Meet me at the Met Friday at 10. Yvie’s working on a blindspot in their security cameras and I’m gonna test it. Can you get Nina that interview?” 

Brooke nods. She looks at her shoes before pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, the familiar motion making Vanessa dizzy. “This is my new number. Just thought you might need it.”

Vanessa shoves the paper in her pocket and heads back into the living room without waiting to see if Brooke is behind her. She used to walk without checking because she knew Brooke would always be there, would always have her back. Now she does it because she just doesn’t care. 

Vanessa stands in front of them, forgetting her annoyance of having to work with Brooke in favor of the pride and riches she would earn after this. 

“Okay, everyone,” Vanessa says, “welcome to Mateo’s Eight.”

“There’s only seven of us.”

Vanessa huffs in exasperation. “Damn it, Yvie, c’mon, this was my big moment!”

“Well, there is.”

Vanessa bites her lip and makes a quick head count. Math never was her strong suit. But _Mateo’s Seven_ just doesn’t have the same ring, so she scoops up Riley from where he’s latched on to Brooke’s ankle--the traitor; he always jumped on Brooke when she walked in the apartment, even if she had only been gone an hour--and hoists him into the air. 

“Riley’s number eight. I don’t want to hear arguing.” She straightens her posture, trying to get back her earlier confidence, wishing there was some heroic music in the background. 

“Welcome to Mateo’s Eight.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Vanessa laid out the plan for the heist and agreed to let Brooke work with her  
> Now: They begin the steps of the plan while Brooke deals with her feelings for Vanessa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the feedback on this fic! I never expected people would like this and it means so much to me! Thank you as always to Writ for being the most amazing beta, you're the best! <3 <3 
> 
> Please leave some feedback if you can, I really do appreciate it!

Brooke is early as usual, hands warmed by the coffees she’s holding as everyone stampedes by her outside the Met. The coffee is a probably too-desperate attempt to get herself on Vanessa’s good side, but it’s all she can come up with, because Vanessa has total control. Brooke is going to have to follow all her orders, because while she doesn’t truly think Vanessa would give her up to the police, she used to think the same thing about herself. 

Brooke should have never taken that risk last summer when she had so much to lose, so much more than Vanessa knew. Hell, she shouldn’t be taking this risk now. But if they succeed, and she gets that money, the risk will be worth it. And if she has to butter Vanessa up with coffee, so be it. 

Vanessa finally arrives, ten minutes late without Brooke to remind her of the time, looking fearful of all the people and the huge buildings looming around them. That Vanessa-shaped space in Brooke’s heart--a space she thought had stopped feeling anything--aches at seeing Vanessa suffering. She longs to wrap Vanessa in her arms and protect her from the world, but she has no chance of getting away with that now. 

“What the hell is that? You trying to poison me?” Vanessa jabs a finger at the coffee. 

“Good morning to you too.”

“Whatever.” Vanessa sips her coffee, and Brooke knows from her silence that she got the order exactly right: three sugars (not that Vanessa needs any sugar), two creams, and a shot of caramel. Brooke sips at her own black coffee, the rich taste making her think of all the times she and Vanessa drank coffee and shared apple pie at the diner. 

Brooke slows her walk to match pace with Vanessa as they go inside, and figures it’s best if their conversations are about the plan and nothing else. “So, there’s no cameras inside the bathrooms due to health laws, which I’m sure you know, and the bathroom closest to the kitchens is the best location to steal the necklace.”

“I know,” Vanessa says. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a round black piece the size of a dime. “Put this in your ear. Yvie’s on the other end, she’s in their security system to see how big the camera’s blindspot is.”

“ _Ear comms?_ ” Brooke asks in disbelief. “What are we, superheroes?”

“Just put it in,” Vanessa hisses. “And I think you’re a villain, for the record.”

“Villains do have good hair.” Vanessa used to tear her hands through it in bed, twirling strands around her fingers, and braid it when she was bored, each twist woven with love as Vanessa trailed kisses down Brooke’s neck. 

“And big mouths.” 

Brooke knows she’s been beaten and shoves the thing in her ear. It doesn’t feel much different from her ear buds. She and Vanessa would sit tethered together by a shared ear bud wire, giggling as they chose songs for each other, a dazzling world of music unfolding for them. 

“Keep up, Brooke.”

\---

_“You wanna run a scam together?”_

_Brooke’s stomach flutters at Vanessa’s offer. They’ve been dating over a month, have exchanged kisses and watched movies at each other’s apartments, done cons in front of each other, but this somehow seems more intimate._

_You had to be completely in sync to run a con with someone, because any hesitation or second-guessing meant disaster. You had to trust them completely to follow through on their end. Brooke’s never had that level of trust in anyone. Her ex-husband Frank was the last person she trusted, however half-heartedly, and he had taken the most precious thing to her heart, leaving her with legal bills on top of the others._

_But Vanessa doesn’t know about that. Brooke isn’t_ ready _for Vanessa to know about that. She doesn’t know if she’s ready for a duo con either, but she trusts Vanessa and her skills._

_“Sure,” Brooke says. “What are you thinking?”_

_“I’m thinking some old-fashioned distract-and-grab.”_

_It’s a two-person street job, where one talks to the mark and distracts them while the other picks the mark’s pocket. Easy enough, but there’s that trust again, not to mention the danger of being on the street._

_Brooke usually shies away from street cons, which require you to get much closer to the mark, so close they could identify you or even grab you if they figured out what you were doing. Brooke prefers running hers with a phone or credit card barrier, with lots of careful planning to avoid danger. But she knows Vanessa is well-suited to street scams, having the boldness and natural charisma needed to get strangers to bet money on a card game they’d never win._

_“Okay,” Brooke agrees. “But I have some rules for street scams. Nothing after dark, no marks that look too dangerous, and no marks that need the money more than us.”_

_Vanessa nods. “Let’s do it.”_

\---

“How we doin’, Yvie?”

Vanessa’s voice rasps in front of Brooke and then crackles in her ear a millisecond later, a jarring effect she hasn’t gotten used to yet. 

They stand in front of the bathroom, trying to act casual as Yvie watches them through her hacked security feed. 

“So, there’s about three feet in front of the door and twelve feet across where the camera won’t pick up anything at all,” Yvie says. 

“That’ll be enough for Silky. She’s gonna take the necklace off Plastique in the bathroom and put it on a tray in the blindspot to have it brought in the kitchen,” Vanessa explains. 

“Sounds good,” Brooke says. She has to admit she’s impressed by the thinking Vanessa put into this. Brooke had reviewed the more detailed last Vanessa gave her last night and even she couldn’t find a flaw in it. 

Watching Vanessa so closely, having the intimacy of planning a con thrown at Brooke again is bringing back feelings she’d forced herself to give up six months ago. She knows what she did was irreparable, and she even succeeded in pretending she no longer has feelings for Vanessa. But those feelings are returning as she watches Vanessa slam-dunk her coffee cup in the garbage, as she watches Vanessa’s eyes narrow in focus, head bent over her notebook. But Brooke can’t do anything about it, can’t do anything to jeopardize the heist. She’s silenced her feelings for six months, and she can do it a little longer. 

They test the routes they’ll take on the big night, ignoring the beauty of the art around them, vivid colors and landscapes so realistic you’d expect to feel grass if you touched it. They’re much prettier than her world, and Brooke wants to climb inside and live there. Brooke wishes they could be here to take in the art, regular people on a date, taking pictures of Vanessa she could post later and look at whenever she wanted. 

Maybe she can come back with Zoey some day. But that’s the future, and Brooke can’t let herself think that far ahead. She just has to breathe and go one day at a time, like she’s always done, no matter how much she wants to think weeks and months ahead. 

Their work here is done, and Brooke follows Vanessa to their next stop. 

\---

_Brooke dials the clunky phone. The Nokias had been her idea, a way to signal each other without being obvious. She calls the phone in Vanessa’s pocket, the vibration signaling that Brooke is ready, and Vanessa can begin._

_They’ve already chosen their mark, a businessman in a tailored suit and shoes worth Brooke’s whole paycheck. Shoes are a good indicator, she’s learned. Anyone can have one nice suit, or even one nice jacket. But no one would wear shoes that expensive, especially in maroon--people tend to choose black when splurging on shoes, because it matches more--as an everyday shoe, unless they had ten more pairs._

_Her heart picks up speed, the familiar adrenaline running through her veins. Even as the anticipation makes her feel larger than life, Brooke forces herself to disappear into the crowd, to go unnoticed. It’s something she’s gotten good at, for how tall she is. When Frank got mad he screamed at the first person he saw, and Brooke learned how to vanish._

_Vanessa winks, and Brooke trusts her._

_“Excuse me,” Vanessa starts, walking up to the businessman fearfully, “I think I’m lost. Could you help me?”_

_Brooke forces herself to focus, because Vanessa is a wonder to watch. She draws in her shoulders and widens her eyes, becoming younger than she is, an innocent girl people would drop anything to help, even in a city where most of the population would step over a dead body. Brooke herself would do anything to help Vanessa right now._

_He begins giving her directions, and Brooke slips her hand inside his pocket, Vanessa holding his attention so well he doesn’t notice. Part of Brooke burns at the hungry way he looks at Vanessa, but she tells herself taking his money is good enough revenge. He has a leather wallet, slim and lightweight, worth as much as the money in it. Brooke frees four hundreds and puts it back in his pocket before he finishes the directions. Brooke can’t fathom having so much money she can carry hundred-dollar bills, so much money she wouldn’t even notice they’re missing._

_“Thank you so much for your help,” Vanessa says as they walk away, Brooke triumphantly passing Vanessa half the money. Before she knows what’s happening, Vanessa tugs her into an alley, breathlessly pressing her lips to Brooke’s._

_It feels like an earthquake rumbling under Brooke’s skin, her body buzzing and heart throbbing beneath Vanessa’s touch, Vanessa’s hands fumbling as they try to slip under her coat and heavy sweater to reach her skin. She forces herself to pull away, telling Vanessa they can continue this in her apartment, both giggling as they walk down the street._

_“Look how big those cupcakes are!” Vanessa points at a bakery, the kind where cookies are four bucks a pop. Cupcakes with bright buttercream flowers shine in the window and Brooke can see the longing in Vanessa’s eyes._

_“You want one?”_

_“Oh, Brooke, you don’t have to--”_

_But Brooke is already pulling Vanessa inside the cozy bakery. She doesn’t need to buy overpriced cupcakes right now, but she’s high on the success on their scam, high on Vanessa’s smile, and Brooke would pay anything to keep that smile there, let Vanessa enjoy her night a bit longer._

_“Which one do you want?”_

_Vanessa bites her lip, teetering back and forth in front of the glass case, from chocolate to strawberry to lemon to red velvet._

_“I can’t pick,” Vanessa says finally. “I like lemon and chocolate.”_

_Brooke grins. “How about we get both and cut them in half? Then we each get two flavors.”_

_Vanessa’s smile overtakes her face, and Brooke falls a little harder._

\---

“This place is...fancy,” Brooke manages, looking through the restaurant window at all the people in suits and dresses, reading menus that didn’t even have prices. 

“Even the damn soda is probably ten dollars,” Vanessa mutters. “And look at that guy’s lunch! Probably paid fifty dollars for that salad with one piece of lettuce and no croutons.”

“Like there’s any other reason to eat salad,” Brooke says. 

“Exactly! Coulda spent two bucks at McDonald’s and got more food than that.”

“People think stuff tastes better when they pay more for it. Or if it has a fancy name,” Brooke says, the two of them at peace for the moment, united in their longing to scam people who spend hundreds on one lunch and still leave a two-dollar tip for the servers. She and Vanessa used to dream of tipping a thousand dollars after their big con succeeded. 

“Ain’t nothing in there better than pizza. Or mac and cheese. Or French fries,” Vanessa declares, and Brooke smiles. 

“Especially with ketchup on the side,” Brooke dares, and the faint smile she earns from Vanessa is worth the scowl that replaces it a second later, Vanessa turning her head away. 

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Brooke asks, going back to the mission. 

“I’m sure,” Vanessa says firmly. “Yvie’s been pretending to be Scarlet’s publicity head, hyping her up and talking to Plastique’s manager. Plastique requested Scarlet dress her for the Met.”

“She’s coming,” Scarlet hisses in their ear comms. 

They turn their attention to the table inside where Scarlet nervously hugs Plastique. They sit across from each other and Brooke holds her breath as Scarlet begins talking about dress designs, casually mentioning how good a certain diamond necklace would look on Plastique. 

“Damn. Scarlet could make a career out of this,” Brooke says, after she persuades Plastique to wear the necklace in just two tries. 

“She’s good,” Vanessa agrees. “But not as good as me.”

“No, she’s not,” Brooke admits, the words slipping out though she knows they shouldn’t. She’s never been one to give out false praise, but Vanessa deserves it, has always deserved it, and Brooke can’t help herself. 

Vanessa smiles, but it quickly turns to a frown. “Don’t be getting familiar. I’m calling the shots here, remember?”

Brooke nods, the two of them slipping into silence as Plastique agrees to wear the necklace and Scarlet suggests they meet Monday to sample dresses and view the necklace.

“Okay, on Monday, Scarlet will convince the jewel company to loan Plastique the necklace. She should have that covered.” Vanessa checks her phone. “Nina texted me. _Vogue_ hired her as one of the ball interns and she’ll send more info when she can.”

“Okay.” 

Vanessa crosses something off her list, and they move on.

\---

Things come together over the next weeks, and Brooke is in awe. It’s like watching puzzle pieces finally making a complete picture. This was always Brooke’s favorite part of cons: the careful planning, analyzing each step and preparing for possible problems with it. Vanessa drew the finished picture and Brooke colored it in, perfecting each line. 

They set up in a warehouse Yvie uses with her hacker friends, full of comfy, worn-in furniture. In days, it’s stocked with mission supplies and bags of chips and cookies that Yvie brings in, and it’s kind of cozy. Brooke has to admit that she counts down the minutes until she’ll be done teaching at the studio so she can head to the warehouse and work, the space always bursting with action. 

Nina brings in a coffee maker, a blender, and a 3D printer, and Brooke mixes herself a smoothie and doesn’t think of where Nina got this stuff. There’s such an easy charm to Nina that it honestly doesn’t matter. Nina’s done well in her assigned role at _Vogue_ , perfectly perky and cheerful and unassuming, getting them a seating chart and other information from the inside. 

Nina has taken a liking to Brooke, always sitting next to her while they plan, and it’s nice to have a friend again, to be in the warehouse with the others working nearby, a change from the quiet life alone that Brooke’s had for six months. 

“I got pizza!” Nina announces one night, loaded down with boxes. She sets them on the table and everyone swarms around her, even Yvie leaving her computer nest in the corner and taking slices for her and Scarlet. Brooke gets a slice for herself and looks over at Vanessa, pacing in front of the Met layout and seating chart taped to the wall, too lost in thought to care about pizza. Brooke grabs another slice and takes a breath. 

“You want some string and tacks like the detectives on the serial killer shows?” Brooke asks. 

Vanessa jumps and looks up at her, clearly surprised to have someone there. “Get outta here with that serial killer nonsense,” she says. “Besides, if I was making a murder board, it’d be prettier than this. I’d have matching colors and shit.”

“Flowers, too, I bet,” Brooke says. 

“And ruffles.” Vanessa lowers her head and smiles like she’s lost a fight, her cheeks a rosy pink. 

“Well, here,” Brooke says, handing Vanessa the plate. “You should eat something.”

“It has peppers,” Vanessa says quietly.

“Yeah. I know it’s your favorite.”

Vanessa is silent for a second, staring at the green peppers peeking through the cheese. She could throw it on the floor, or fling it back at Brooke, but instead, she takes a bite. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Brooke fiddles with the hem of her sweater, wondering if Vanessa will say more. But Vanessa goes back to her charts, and Brooke walks away. 

Brooke isn’t sure why she’s so desperate to get back on Vanessa’s good side. Maybe because she hasn’t been able to stop loving Vanessa, even after giving her name to the police. Maybe because things ended so horribly, with Brooke never getting a chance to explain, that this sudden re-entry to Vanessa’s world is too precious to mess up. Her last chance to at least get Vanessa to stop hating her, maybe explain what happened, tell Vanessa the secret she kept for so long. She doesn’t think she can repair the crack in between them, but maybe she can smooth out the edges, keep them from getting hurt on the broken pieces of memory. 

Nina winks at her when she sits back down. 

“What?” Brooke demands. 

Nina raises an eyebrow. “You still like her.”

“I…” Brooke trails off, because there’s something about Nina that makes her impossible to lie to, like you’re lying to Mr. Rogers. “Maybe I do.” But even that’s a lie, because Brooke knows she does, has known the entire time. Why else was she going so far out of her way to do things for someone she sent to prison?

“I thought so.” Nina smiles. “A’keria told me things ended after a con went bad last summer?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“How bad?” Nina asks softly. “Something you can try to talk through?”

Brooke just shrugs. They haven’t talked _anything_ through, not that Vanessa has given her the chance. But how could she talk through sending Vanessa to prison, talk through her secrets Vanessa didn’t know? Talking about feelings has always been hard, something she could only manage with Vanessa. Lord knows her parents didn’t foster emotional health, ignoring each at dinner and arguing after they thought Brooke was asleep. 

But Vanessa made her want to show her feelings. Vanessa made Brooke want to shout about her love from the rooftops and do every cliched thing people did in the rom-coms Vanessa always chose for movie night. Brooke knows she would still do all those things if Vanessa wanted them, and she knows the feelings she tried to push down haven’t gone anywhere, are poking through the soil like persistent spring flowers. 

Brooke is still in love with her, and Nina’s smile proves they both know it. 

“You know, I think you still have a shot.” Nina’s warm hand settles over her shoulder and Brooke has a lump in her throat because it’s been six months without anyone’s warmth or comfort, without a hand to hold or someone to burrow under a blanket with, and the simple touch is almost too much to handle. Nina points to the corner, and Brooke sees that Vanessa has eaten her whole slice of pizza, and she thinks maybe Nina is right.

\---

_Brooke snips the strings on the pristine bakery box, neatly cutting each cupcake and pulling Vanessa to the couch where they devour their feast, kissing frosting off each other’s lips._

_“I love you,” Brooke says. It’s not as earth-shattering as she imagined, so natural it feels like any other statement. She’s never said it so easily, so early in a relationship, but she has also never meant it more. She loves Vanessa with everything she has, wants Vanessa with her every day, to hold her near and make dinner with and kiss on the couch._

_“I love you too, Brooke. I really do.”_

_Brooke lays back on the couch, pulling Vanessa on top of her planting gentle kisses along her collarbone as her hands roam Vanessa’s back. Vanessa leans into her, lowering her lips to Brooke’s and sliding her hands up Brooke’s shirt again, stroking just beneath her ribs and making Brooke shudder._

_“You sure you want to do this?” Brooke asks, pulling away from the kiss._

_“I’m so sure, Brooke. I really, really love you, and I trust you. I want to do this with you.”_

_Brooke lets Vanessa pull her shirt off, both of them running to her bed. They nestle together afterwards, limbs intertwined, Vanessa’s head resting gently on Brooke’s chest._

_Brooke is so warm with Vanessa’s skin against hers, so safe and secure, that she never wants this to end, never wants them to move from this bed._

_She wants to tell Vanessa the truth about everything, stop the secret from wriggling inside her like a pit of snakes. She wants to tell Vanessa that she doesn’t teach workshops one Saturday a month like Vanessa thinks. She wants to tell Vanessa why she has so many bills, who the hospital ones belong to, how part of her heart was ripped away and she’d do anything to get it back._

_But the words don’t come out, and instead she pulls Vanessa closer, buries her face in the top of Vanessa’s head, and drifts off._

\---

The day of the heist creeps closer and closer as Brooke perfects her notes, making sure everything is accounted for, and she really thinks this will work. There’s ways it could go wrong, of course--there always is, especially with so many people involved--but the plans are so airtight, so organized, that Brooke can’t see anything wrecking them. 

The real moment of truth happens on a Saturday, everyone crowded around the desk where Nina set up the 3D printer. Everyone holds their breath as a replica of the necklace is created out of thin air, a perfect copy of the one Scarlet saw in her dress fitting. Nina will find the fake after they steal the real one, and by the time anyone notices it’s just a worthless copy, they’ll already be 16 million dollars richer. Even Brooke can’t tell the difference between them, and things seem real in a way they haven’t so far. Duplicating the necklace is one of the hardest parts, and with that done, what can’t they do?

“Okay, Silky,” Vanessa starts, standing at the head of the table like a general about to lead her troops into battle. “You’ll be posing as a waitress. We’ll get Plastique in the bathroom and you take the necklace off her. Then put it on a waiter’s tray to get it in the kitchen with A’keria.”

“I’m sorry, but _‘In the kitchen with A’keria’_ is the cooking show I never knew I needed,” Yvie interjects. 

“I’d watch the shit out of that,” Scarlet says. 

“I'll be a guest star,” Nina says, and then the table is in uproar, Silky demanding a fried chicken episode. 

Brooke snorts into her arm as Vanessa bites her lip to keep a laugh in before finally letting one out and then clapping to regain everyone’s attention. 

“How are we gonna get Plastique in the bathroom?” Silky asks. 

“We’re gonna put something in her food so she throws up,” Vanessa answers. “Everyone else will leave, ‘cause who wants to deal with barf, and I’ll stand outside so her bodyguard can’t get in.” 

“Who’s gonna put the stuff in the food, though?” A’keria asks. “You got me in the kitchen, but I’m washing dishes, not serving them.”

“Send me in,” Brooke says quickly, having already come to that conclusion in her notes. Vanessa opens her mouth to protest, but Brooke cuts her off. “Have Nina tell Vogue they need a nutritionist in the kitchen. I’ll be the nutritionist, I’ll put the stuff in her dinner.”

Brooke knows from Vanessa’s steely eyes and the smug grin she’s trying to hide that she likes the idea but won’t admit it. “Fine,” Vanessa says.

Everyone resumes their own planning. Brooke is running through a timeline for the night when a coffee mug slides in front of her. Brooke looks up and realizes she and Vanessa are the only two left, so wrapped up in her notes that she never noticed the others leave. 

“Last of the pot. Didn’t want to waste it.” Vanessa says, already back on the couch. 

“Thank you,” Brooke says, taking a sip. 

Vanessa shrugs before tucking her legs beneath her, and Brooke bends her head over the desk, a comfortable silence between them. For a minute Brooke forgets the past six months have happened, and it’s just another night--Vanessa on the couch planning makeup looks for work and small cons to do while Brooke goes over recital plans for the dance studio, sliding a plate of cookies back and forth. She forces herself to forget it.

“You wanna check this before I leave?” Vanessa asks an hour later. 

Brooke takes the notebook Vanessa hands her, feeling like she’s holding a piece of Vanessa. She checks the detailed run-through Vanessa sketched out and feels that familiar tug in her heart over reading Vanessa’s handwriting, at seeing her ideas in her own words. “Looks good.”

Vanessa just nods. 

Brooke grabs her stuff and they head out together, both awkwardly looking straight ahead. It’s not until they hit the street that Brooke realizes they’re stuck, since she lives 10 blocks from the warehouse, and Vanessa is 15 blocks from her. 

Vanessa keeps staring at the ground while she walks, fists clenched tight. Brooke can’t imagine what six months in prison must have been like, the guilt settling in her stomach like bricks. She wants to hold Vanessa close, shield her from whatever’s in her mind, like Vanessa did for her countless times. She wants to give back some of the love and protection Vanessa exuded every day. 

“Hey, breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.” Brooke has to try to help even if it’s not her place. “It’ll work. Believe me, I’ve been there.” She remembers rough nights before taking the stage, feeling like her shaky knees would drop her on her face. Each slow breath made her lungs burn, resisting the air she needed before finally accepting it. 

Vanessa doesn’t say anything, but her breaths come slower as they take each block, until they arrive at Brooke’s apartment. 

“You got rid of the old place,” Vanessa says. They’re the first words she’s said on the walk, and it might be Brooke’s imagination, but they seem tinged with sadness.

It makes Brooke sad too, that she had to sell the home they made together, with the bright couch pillows and fuzzy blankets and the breathless nights in bed turning into relaxed mornings as they sipped coffee together before work. Their home, the place Brooke’s body longed for after a rough day at work, where Vanessa’s dog would leap on her legs and Vanessa would greet her with a kiss.

“Yeah.” The outside of the building looks worse than the inside, with its peeling paint and cracked bricks. She’s done the best she can with the inside, laying a small rug over the weird stains on the living room floor, hanging cheery yellow curtains in the kitchen. But it’s still not what she dreamt of, what _they_ dreamt while cuddling at night. “Couldn’t afford it anymore after…” _After I ruined what we had to protect someone I never told you about_ , Brooke thinks. 

“Well, it’s your own fault you had to pay the rent alone.”

“I know. But Vanessa--”

“You always were a coward. Too afraid to do the stuff that coulda got you out of this,” Vanessa says, gesturing at the decrepit building, and something in Brooke snaps. 

“Yeah, well you were always reckless!” Brooke shoots back. “You ran into stuff just to do it! You know the times you would’ve been caught without me?”

“I don’t need you!” Vanessa yells. “I was fine before I got involved with you, never got caught once!” She pauses, her shoulders heaving as she pants out her anger. Her eyes light up with a sudden idea. “I bet I won’t get caught now. That guy over there”--she points to a man at a bus stop across the street-- “I’m gonna get him. You just watch and learn.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Brooke says. Her anger is fading and her reason is returning, and this is definitely too dangerous. It’s dark out, they haven’t prepared, and something about the man makes her arms break out in goosebumps. 

“I don’t care what you think, do I?”

“Vanessa--”

“I’m doing it. You can’t stop me.”

“Fine.” Some part of her _wants_ to see Vanessa fail, wants her to learn a lesson. Vanessa crosses the street, and from the way the man starts pointing, Brooke assumes she’s doing a distract-and-grab. Her hand works toward his pocket and he jumps back, eyes locking on Vanessa. 

Brooke watches in horror, fear bolting through her heart, as the man grabs Vanessa’s arm, and before she knows it, she’s across the street, wrenching Vanessa from his grip and putting herself in between them. 

“Leave her alone,” Brooke says evenly. “She didn’t take anything, just go.”

The man stares at her hungrily, and Brooke’s heart pounds, mind racing with all the ways this could go wrong. He could have a weapon, he could call the cops...she should run but her feet are stuck to the sidewalk. She shifts her body to block Vanessa from his view, ready to protect her, because she never wanted anything to hurt Vanessa, and the feeling is still present. 

He shoves Brooke with a grunt, and she’s usually sturdy on her feet but she’s too worried about Vanessa to steel herself, and she stumbles down to the pavement, hands scraping across concrete to break her fall. He runs off, and Brooke rises unsteadily, wincing as her hands sting. She hisses in pain at the red oozing across her shredded palms. 

“What the hell did you have to play the hero for?” Vanessa stomps her foot, buzzing with anger, and maybe Brooke can't fix what happened, can't even soften the edges.

“I thought I was the villain,” Brooke says through clenched teeth. This is the last thing she needs to do. She needs to stay on Vanessa’s good side to get that money, but she can’t stop herself from giving into the anger, the sheer rage she’s been carrying the past six months, after her future was stolen. 

“I had him! I had him, and you ruined it--”

“He could’ve really hurt you!” Brooke says, images of Vanessa bleeding, hurt and in pain, still flashing through her mind. “And you didn’t have anything, he was totally on to you!” 

Brooke knows insulting Vanessa’s skills is one of the worst things she can do, and the defeated look that crosses her face makes Brooke want to take it back. Vanessa huffs in frustration, spinning around on the sidewalk. “Go, Brooke. Just go. I don’t want you in on this plan anymore.”

Brooke’s blood runs cold, tears pricking at her eyes. She needs that money, she needs it so badly, it’s the only way to pay for a lawyer and win against her ex-husband—

“ _Please._ Vanessa, please, I’m sorry--”

“Just go.” 

Vanessa heads down the street, already too far for Brooke to chase, and Brooke’s last hope goes with her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Brooke and Vanessa grew closer together, but Vanessa kicked Brooke off the con team  
> Now: Vanessa accepts that she needs Brooke's help, and we find out more about their past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback! Every time I read your comments I get so soft and happy, and I would love it if you could leave some more on this chapter! Thank you times 3,000 to Writ for betaing this chapter. This was a tricky one, and I'm so grateful for your help on it <3

Vanessa slams her apartment door with a satisfying rattle. Her mother is still at work, Vanessa again hit with guilt for her mother working so hard. It’s another reminder of how much they need this plan to succeed. But it won’t. Not without Brooke. 

Vanessa paces her room, doing that breathing thing Brooke showed her. Accepting Brooke’s help opposes every fiber of Vanessa’s being, but it works, and in a minute, she’s calm, heart slow and steady. Unfortunately, now that the anger has cleared, all she can see is the mess she made, her dreams shattered before they could begin. 

She knows Brooke made a schedule for the event, what needs to be done and when. Vanessa can try to make her own, but it won’t be as accurate or as smooth as Brooke’s, and something could go wrong. _And_ Brooke is responsible for getting Plastique into the bathroom. 

She can’t do this without Brooke. But can Vanessa trust her, when Brooke already gave her up? She knows how desperate Brooke is, how much she needs that money, and Vanessa is banking on that desperation to be enough for Brooke to hold up her end. The con is over unless Vanessa gets Brooke back, and she groans in frustration. 

And to top it all off, why did her heart nearly leap out of her chest when Brooke gave her pizza? Why has resuming their banter been so easy, so natural and _fun_? Why is the heart necklace Brooke gave her still sitting on her dresser, when she meant to pawn it off days ago?

She scoops up the necklace, the smooth gold sending a shiver through her body. Brooke had been so excited to give it to her, hands so eager they kept fumbling the clasp. Vanessa called it her good luck charm, had worn it the day of the gallery con. The day their luck ran out. 

Vanessa drops into bed, a pillow over her face like it can block out her problems and the memories of Brooke. The past few weeks, she hasn’t been able to get Brooke’s smile out of her head, tear her eyes away from how she bites her lip when she writes. It was like that when they were together, every action of Brooke’s so graceful, so delicate, that even mundane things like making the bed left Vanessa in a breathless awe.

She sighs and yanks the covers up. Tomorrow she’ll talk to A’keria, someone calm and reasonable, to help her see what to do. Vanessa breathes slowly until she’s asleep, mind betraying her with dreams of Brooke all night. 

\---

_“Two points, baby!” Vanessa slams a loaf of bread into the cart._

_“If you smashed my bread we’re not going grocery shopping together anymore,” Brooke threatens, but she’s smiling too much for it to have any weight._

“Our _bread,” Vanessa corrects, because last week she moved box after box into Brooke’s apartment, which is now_ their _apartment. Brooke even scooped her up and carried her through the door as Riley yipped at their heels, both of them laughing so hard Brooke almost dropped her a few steps in._

_“Our bread,” Brooke agrees._

_The cart fills up and Vanessa can hardly believe that the chicken and vegetables are going to the same place, that they’ll make tonight’s dinner with it. She can’t believe they’ve already spent five months together, each one the best of Vanessa’s life, falling asleep on Brooke’s couch and doing much more than sleeping in her bed, cooking and talking about their dreams for the future. Vanessa has always fallen hard, and Brooke’s smile makes her fall further each day, ready to spend her life with Brooke._

_“You think you’re bringing Frosted Flakes into our household? We a Cinnamon Toast Crunch family,” Vanessa says._

_“We can be both.” Brooke grins. “Tony the Tiger and those creepy cinnamon squares side-by-side.”_

_“They’re not creepy, they’re cute.”_

_“Just like you,” Brooke says. Vanessa’s heart leaps as Brooke takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles._

_“That’s cheesy,” Vanessa says, smiling all the same. “Ooh! Speaking of cheesy, let’s get Cheetos!” She and Brooke did an old-fashioned hustle on some businessman at a bar yesterday, pretending to be clueless at pool and taking his money when they “miraculously” won, and Vanessa wants to splurge while they can._

_Cheetos secured, Vanessa leaps on the cart and glides to the florist stand, ignoring Brooke’s pleas that she be careful and the dirty looks people give her. She longingly strokes glossy tulip petals. “Brooke, can we get these? My mom says to get flowers when you get a new place.”_

_The apartment technically isn’t new to Brooke, but it’s new to her, new to them, and Vanessa can just imagine eating dinner with a vase of the soft pink tulips shining between them._

_“Of course we can,” Brooke says. “They’re beautiful.”_

_“Just like you.” Vanessa winks._

_“Now who’s cheesy?” Brooke teases._

_“Almost forgot the Cheez-Its!”_

\---

“I think I need to call off the plan.” Vanessa gets right to it after A’keria sits down on her bed. 

“Why?”

Vanessa recaps the botched pickpocketing and the fight. “I don’t know if I can trust her after everything,” Vanessa finishes, expecting A’keria to jump to her support. 

But A’keria is quiet, staring into the pink quilt. “What were you thinking?” She demands. 

“What--”

“You don’t need to get caught doing street cons when you’re on parole! And Brooke is right, he could’ve hurt you.”

“I know.” Vanessa sighs. She’s never had a close call like that, and she can still feel his fingers digging into her arm, legs still quaking with the fear she refused to let Brooke see. 

Now it’s Akeria’s turn to sigh. “You need to just talk to Brooke. Get those feelings out, maybe get some closure.”

“Okay, Dr. Phil.” Vanessa rolls her eyes. 

“I’m serious,” A’keria says. She points to the dresser. “You still got Brooke’s necklace. You’re always staring at her. You laughed with her last week, and it was real.” She pauses. “And have you seen Brooke? That hoe’s a walking stress blob and the only time she’s calm is around you. Not to mention she saved your ass last night.”

“I know!” Vanessa huffs, cheeks ablaze, because A’keria notices too much, and her observations are never wrong. 

Vanessa can’t let go of the necklace, can’t let go of the memories, can’t let go of the fear that Brooke never loved her at all, had just been waiting to turn her into the cops. What if their relationship meant nothing to Brooke? Vanessa doesn’t think her heart could take that on top of everything else. But if Brooke is this stressed after the breakup, that can’t be true. And Brooke loves-- _loved_ \--her, Vanessa is sure of that. There’s no faking the noises Brooke made in bed, the soft _I love you’s_ whispered into her skin afterwards, the utter devotion in Brooke’s eyes when they ate dinner. So then _how_ had Brooke given her up? It didn’t make sense, though Vanessa was too mad to care about sense in prison. Maybe Vanessa does need closure, to find out what happened that day. 

“Don’t you hate when I’m right?” A’keria gloats. 

Vanessa swats at her. “I still don’t know about working with her.”

A’keria lays a hand on Vanessa’s arm. “Look, Vanj, I know it’s hard for you to trust Brooke. And you know I love you. But there’s other people involved. Silky might lose her job. Scarlet might lose her store. My stepfather keeps trying to kick me out. I _need_ that money. A lot of us do.”

A’keria never raises her voice, and her calm tone only makes things worse. It’s just like the _‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’_ speech Vanessa would get from her father, and the guilt hits her like a truck, face burning with shame. 

“A’keria--”

“If you need to call this off, I respect that,” A’keria says seriously. “Make sure you take care of yourself. But just think about what you, and all of us, are gonna lose.”

Vanessa watches her leave with a heavy heart. Now Vanessa has to beg Brooke to come back, and there’s a million things she’d rather do. But A’keria is right, and she can’t let everyone down. She can’t let _herself_ down, when she worked so hard for this. 

She glances at her mother’s work bag on the kitchen floor, dropped in exhaustion after an overnight shift, and Vanessa knows what she has to do. 

\---

Vanessa’s arm is made of steel as she forces it up to Brooke’s door. Her stomach drops and her mouth falls open in surprise when Brooke appears, but who did Vanessa expect, Rihanna? 

Brooke’s eyes are bloodshot and rimmed with gray shadows, and Vanessa can tell she’s been crying. It broke her heart when Brooke cried, especially because Brooke was always embarrassed over it, hiding her face away. Vanessa used to ease her hands off her face, tell her it was nothing to be ashamed of, though she knows Brooke still hates for anyone to see her cry, and maybe that’s why Brooke’s cheeks flush as Vanessa takes her in. It doesn’t explain why Vanessa’s face burns just as hot, though. 

“Well, to what do I owe this honor?” Brooke’s voice bites with a razor-sharpness Vanessa knows she deserves. 

“I need to talk to you. I need to” --she grits her teeth-- “ _apologize_ to you.”

“Maybe I should call the newspapers,” Brooke says. She’s silent, and Vanessa holds her breath. Brooke could slam the door in her face and the whole plan would collapse, which isn’t ideal for either of them, but Vanessa can hardly say she didn’t cause the destruction. 

Finally, Brooke gestures for her to come in, and Vanessa notices the _Frozen_ Band-Aids awkwardly applied to the raw, red scrapes covering Brooke’s palms. 

“Your hands,” Vanessa says, hit with another twinge of guilt. Brooke really was just trying to help her last night, and Vanessa was so consumed with anger that she barely noticed Brooke got hurt.

“It’s nothing,” Brooke says. 

“Nuh-uh.” Vanessa shakes her head. “Carl Dragon got a little scratch on _Game of Thrones_ and died from it.” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s _Khal Drogo—_ ”

“I don’t care. You ain’t ruining my plans dying from a scrape. Let me look at it.”

“Fine.” Brooke huffs as Vanessa follows her to a bathroom the size of a prison cell, seating Brooke on the edge of the tub and browsing the medicine cabinet. Elsa, Anna, and Spider-Man stare at her from Band-Aid boxes, nestled beside bottles of grape Tylenol and gummy vitamins. 

“Aww, does someone like big-girl Band-Aids?” Vanessa teases. “Maybe I’ll give you a sticker when I’m done.” 

“Hey!” Brooke pouts, and Vanessa finds it more adorable than she should. “I like fun Band-Aids.” 

“Sure you can handle the childproof cap on those vitamins?”

“ _Vanessa_ ,” Brooke whines.

“Did they give you a lollipop when you bought them?” 

“Gummy vitamins taste better,” Brooke defends herself, cheeks tinged light pink. “Are you gonna play nurse now, or what?”

Vanessa gets to work. She peels off the Band-Aids, and the wince Brooke tries to hide as they tug on her torn skin tears at Vanessa’s heart, the part that still hurts when Brooke is suffering. She looks into Brooke’s trusting eyes and gently rubs antibiotic cream on her palms. 

She’s so close to Brooke’s hands, close enough to see the bluish veins snaking beneath her skin, and this isn’t helping with the feelings she’s trying to avoid. Those hands are soft and cool and smooth, had grabbed at her hips, plucked money from pockets, mixed coffee and buttered toast when Brooke brought her breakfast in bed. Those hands had wrapped around her own as they walked together, rubbed up and down her back in bed, clapped together when Brooke was excited, massaged Vanessa’s shoulders. Brooke keeps her hands perfectly still, just like when she’d let Vanessa paint her nails…

“You good?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa realizes she’s holding Brooke’s hands in her own, fingers intertwined, breath caught in her throat. But considering it took Brooke this long to mention it, it couldn’t have bothered her much. 

“Yeah.” Vanessa jerks back and grabs gauze, carefully winding it around the scrapes and taping it down. 

Brooke leads her to the kitchen, bright sun streaming through yellow curtains Brooke probably got to liven up this dingy shoebox apartment. The silence is too thick for such a small space, threatening to shatter the windows. 

“Coffee?” Brooke asks.

Vanessa agrees, and finds herself across from Brooke at the rickety kitchen table, sipping coffee in a silence even more awkward than the one before it. It has all the nervous, breathless energy of their first date, with none of the anticipation or hope. 

“So, um, how have you been doing?” Brooke asks. 

_What the hell does it matter to you?_ Vanessa thinks, but she bites her lip. She needs to not blow up at Brooke. And Brooke has no right to ask how Vanessa’s doing after prison, but she seems genuine, and maybe Vanessa should talk about it, A’keria’s words running through her mind. 

Vanessa shrugs. “Okay. Sometimes being outside freaks me out. Too open, y’know? But it’s getting better. And I’m happy to be out, but it’s...weird, I guess. Weirder than I expected.” 

_Weird_ is the best word for it, for the fact that small spaces are more comfortable when she hated being cramped for six months, wanted to bust through the prison and see sunlight. _Weird_ is feeling like she’s behind in her own life, like she didn’t actually exist for six months. _Weird_ that for the past few weeks, Vanessa feels like she’s just been acting as Vanessa Mateo, sent on stage with no lines and no clue who she is. 

Brooke nods, and somehow, just talking about it, with Brooke listening and not judging her, makes Vanessa feel more like herself than she has since she was released. 

“It’s not like TV,” Vanessa continues. “It’s really not that bad. Not as bad as I thought it would be, anyway. It’s pretty quiet. No fights or riots or anything. Me and some other girls would play cards at lunch.”

Those card games had been one of the only things she had to look forward to, aside from quiet moments when she planned her con. Otherwise, it was a lot of counting down to the weekly visit she got, always from her mother and sometimes from A’keria and Silky. She didn’t mouth off, didn’t misbehave, because she knew they could take her visits away, and they were all she had. Shedding that routine and getting back into her own life has been harder than she thought, but it’s getting easier. 

“I bet you won,” Brooke says shyly, and Vanessa smiles, her heart lighter.

“Hell yeah, I did! You think anyone’s beatin’ me at cards? I was destroying my mom at Go Fish when I was four!” Vanessa is calmest with a slim, smooth card in her hands, an ease that breeds confidence in her card scams. 

Brooke laughs, and Vanessa can tell from her eyes that she’s guilty, maybe even sad about Vanessa being in prison, but there’s no pity in her gaze. She doesn’t mention her feelings, doesn’t try to apologize, and it’s enough. Enough to make Vanessa calm, to smile and feel freer than she did her first day out in the world. Enough to feel normal again. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Brooke says, and Vanessa has to hold herself back from letting her hand reach out for Brooke’s. 

She needs to stop this. Those feelings were shattered when the cops knocked on A’keria’s door. Every second in prison was spent on the plan, and she’s avoided thinking about the soft green of Brooke’s eyes, how they sparkled when she laughed. She’s avoided thinking of Brooke bouncing through the door with bright flowers to surprise Vanessa, or Brooke packing their lunches each night, tucking sticky-note hearts in Vanessa’s. Now, those memories are flooding back at her, and Vanessa doesn’t know how much longer she can stem the tide. 

Vanessa clears her throat. “Brooke, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you and called you a coward. I’m sorry I got mad when you were helping me, and kicked you off the team.” She bites her lip and exhales. “I’m really, _really_ sorry. But if you can forgive me, I’d love to have you back.”

“You’d really want me back?” Brooke asks, and the surprise in her voice, the shock that someone wants her, breaks Vanessa’s heart a tiny bit. She knows Brooke’s parents were hard on her growing up, heaping too many expectations on her young shoulders, that they kicked her out when she was 18 and told them she liked girls, that she’s always been on her own. Vanessa tried to change that, had made it her mission to make Brooke feel loved, make her feel _wanted_. Maybe she didn’t do as good a job as she thought, and an indescribable sadness fills her chest. 

“I really would. I need you,” Vanessa says, and despite everything, she’s telling the truth. Not just because she needs Brooke’s skills, but because working with her, comparing notes and planning each detail, is the most fun Vanessa’s had in a long time, and she thinks the same is true for Brooke.

“I’m in,” Brook says without hesitation. 

“Okay.” Vanessa peers into her empty mug and rises. “See you later. Thanks for the coffee.” She needs to get out of here because she can’t stop staring at Brooke’s lips and she might do something really stupid like _kiss her--_

“O-Okay. I’ll see you,” Brooke says, looking shaken at her sudden departure, like she wants Vanessa to stay. 

And the worst part is that Vanessa wants to stay too.

\---

_“I really think you should go to the ER,” Vanessa says in worry, tucking sweat-damp hair behind Brooke’s ears._

_Brooke coughs so harshly Vanessa’s own chest hurts. “I can’t, Ness. The visit, the tests, the prescriptions...do you know how much that’ll cost?”_

_She knows Brooke is right, but Vanessa can’t bear to see her suffering like this, struggling for each breath, shivering and then sweating, her body so achy every movement makes her wince. It’s not right. Not right that Brooke is sick with God knows what and refusing the hospital because they have enough bills. Brooke also hates admitting she’s sick, and the two create a horrible combination that has Brooke burrowed into a nest of blankets, trying to wait the illness out._

_“Brooke, you’ve been sick all week. I know it’s just the flu, but your fever’s almost 103.” Vanessa sighs. “If it gets higher, you’re at least going to urgent care.”_

_“Fine.” Brooke sighs into the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. She’s asleep in seconds, getting much-needed rest after being up all night coughing._

_Trusting that she’ll sleep for a few hours, Vanessa heads out despite her reluctance to leave Brooke. She reaches the park she and Silky once frequented, and gets to work._

_Usually, she enjoys taking her time, watching each movement succeed. But she’s fueled by worry and desperation, and she has to force herself not to rush, not to get caught. In two hours she has almost five hundred from card games and pickpocketing, and it’ll have to be enough._

_She runs home and helps a limp, glassy-eyed Brooke into an Uber. Brooke can barely hold herself up, let alone protest going to urgent care, and Vanessa trembles with fear. Brooke nuzzles against her inside the car and breathes sleepy mumbles into her shoulder. Vanessa just holds her hand and wills the car to move faster, buzzing with worry at how Brooke’s skin is hotter than a stove, how there’s a rattling sound in her chest after each breath._

_It’s dark when they finally get home after hours of waiting and tests and a too-expensive pharmacy trip. Vanessa helps Brooke change into her favorite kitten pajamas--Brooke insisting she’s_ ‘not a baby, Ness!’ _but also getting stuck in her shirt after a coughing fit--before tucking her under blankets on the couch and propping up her pillows so she can breathe easier. She stands at Brooke’s side and gently cups her cheek._

_“You’re gonna stay on this couch and rest tomorrow.” Vanessa can’t be stern, not when Brooke is leaning her cheek into the touch and sighing contentedly, Vanessa’s heart warming at the sound. “We’ll watch anything you want and I’ll make you soup.”_

_“You sure? We don’t need another trip to urgent care,” Brooke teases._

_Vanessa smiles, glad Brooke is at least strong enough to tease her. “Hey, I caught the chicken on fire one time. You’re the one who almost chopped her thumb off, Miss Thing.”_

_“Almost.” Brooke grins sleepily at her. God, Brooke’s adorable when she’s sleepy, face softer and younger, eyes droopy and warm, dripping with affection for Vanessa._

_“Promise you’ll never scare me like that again?” Vanessa asks softly, fear still lodged in her heart over how pale, almost ghostly, Brooke was under the harsh fluorescent lights in urgent care, how she was so frail she needed to lean on Vanessa to walk._

_“Promise.” Brooke extends a trembling pinky and Vanessa twirls her own around it. “I love you,” Brooke whispers._

_“I love you too.” She gives Brooke the medicine the doctor prescribed and strokes her hair until she drifts off._

_Brooke’s face is peaceful as she sleeps, and relief finally sweeps over Vanessa after hours of worry. The doctor said Brooke’s severe flu could have become pneumonia if left untreated, and Vanessa can’t think of how bad this could have been, how much sicker Brooke could have gotten._

_There has to be something she can do so they don’t have to live like this. Their combined salary isn’t enough to be comfortable, even with the extra hours they work, and certainly not with their bills. What if she came up with a con, bigger than their simple scams, so big they’d never have to worry about bills or hospital visits or anything again?_

_Vanessa settles into bed and begins to think._

\---

“I got the outfits!” Nina wheels in a garment cart, handing them each a bag with the outfit they’ll wear to the ball after the con is complete. 

“Nice work, Nina,” Vanessa says, laying her bag in her corner, which is starting to resemble the murder board Brooke called it, lists and diagrams and photos pinned to every surface.

“Last run-through!” Vanessa calls, clapping and herding everyone to the table. “Yvie and Scarlet, stop making out. Silky, throw your chip bag away.”

“I swear you have eyes in the back of your head,” Scarlet grumbles as she sits. 

Silky nods in agreement, making a show of throwing her trash away. Brooke is the last to arrive after tearing herself away from her notes, and she sits in the only empty chair (Vanessa wagers Nina made everyone leave it open), next to Vanessa. 

Vanessa clears her throat. “So--”

Scarlet raises her hand. “Um, did I tell you that we’re screwed?”

“Screwed _how?_ ” Vanessa demands, heart speeding up. This can’t be happening, they’re so _close--_

“The necklace needs this magnet to be taken off. The necklace company used it today. Plastique hasn’t actually worn it yet, so I didn’t know. I took a video, which might’ve looked suspicious--”

Vanessa raises a hand to cut her off, mind racing for a solution. 

“Show me the video,” Yvie says. Scarlet hands over her phone, and Yvie nods. “I can fix this.”

“You can?” Vanessa asks, not daring to hope yet. 

“Yep. I’ll have it ready tomorrow. I just need magnets, rods, and duct tape. Maybe some Oreos,” she adds as an afterthought. 

“Why Oreos?” A’keria asks in confusion. 

Yvie shrugs. “I work better with Oreos.”

“Ooh, you ever tried the peanut butter ones?” A’keria asks. 

Silky shakes her head furiously. “Nah, the red velvet ones are where it’s at. When I tell you, _life-changing--_ ”

“Hey!” Vanessa whacks her hand on the table. “I need that thing Judge Judy uses.”

“A gavel,” Brooke interjects. 

“Okay. One last time. Plastique enters the bathroom. Silky takes the necklace off her and puts it on a kitchen tray, where it goes to A’keria. A’keria breaks the necklace apart, then Nina plants the replica, finds it, and gives it to Plastique. And we’re all 16 million dollars richer.”

There’s lots of hugs and laughs and chatter over Chinese food, and Vanessa is practically vibrating with anticipation, so excited to prove herself, that she doesn’t mind having Brooke next to her. Nor does she notice that she gives the sesame chicken and pork egg roll in the bag to Brooke without even checking the list of who ordered what, because the order Vanessa used to tease Brooke for never changing is still lodged in her brain. 

Maybe it’s the good mood she’s in, the good mood they’re all in, the thought that in 24 hours she’ll be free from her bills, but when Brooke asks if she wants to have coffee, Vanessa says yes. 

\---

_“Brooke, I was thinking.”_

_“About…” Brooke prompts._

_Vanessa twirls around the spaghetti she made--without burning anything, thank you very much--and takes a breath. “What if we did a big scam. Bigger than hustling or pickpocketing.”_

_Brooke bites her lip, and Vanessa sees the wheels spinning in her head, fear building as she tries to calculate the risk._

_Vanessa cuts Brooke off before she can fully spiral. “Nothing too extreme. But enough where we can start paying more, where we don’t have to worry about going to the hospital.” She meets Brooke’s eyes meaningfully, because Brooke’s illness last month left Vanessa more shaken than she wants to admit. Sitting at Brooke’s side in the urgent care exam room reminded her of the days by her father’s hospital bed, but Vanessa won’t think about that because she knows how it ended._

_“I don’t know, Ness,” Brooke says. “We’d have to really plan this. It would be a lot riskier than our usual stuff.”_

_Brooke is right about that. It’s unlikely they’d get caught pickpocketing, even more unlikely that the mark would get an identifying look at them in a city of millions where people usually have their heads down._

_“We wouldn’t do anything without planning first,” Vanessa reassures her. “And you’re amazing at planning. The two of us are unstoppable, baby.” She gives Brooke a nervous smile and finds it returned._

_“You’re right. I think we could, but we’d need time to plan--”_

_“Of course. And only if you’re okay with this, Brooke. I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_When they fall into bed that night, Vanessa allows herself to dream of a secure future._

\---

“No talking about prison or the con, and no apologies,” Vanessa says, not unkindly, as they sit in Brooke’s kitchen. She’s been here twice this week, and the weird fish smell Brooke masks with apple-scented candles doesn’t bother her anymore. 

“Um, what do you want to talk about?” Brooke asks nervously. 

“I don’t know. Whatever. You still at the studio?” She’s not sure why she’s asking about Brooke, not sure why she even came here, but she also doesn’t want to leave, to go back to her empty apartment and wait until tomorrow. 

“Yeah. They’ve been hinting at a higher position again, but I don’t think it’s happening.” Vanessa nods. They promised Brooke that raise back when they were dating. She’s not surprised, but it isn’t fair, especially if Brooke still works as hard as she used to. 

“You still do those Saturday workshops?” Brooke did them all day on the first Saturday of each month. She always came home with a sadness hanging over her like a storm cloud, though Brooke said it was just exhaustion. Either way, Vanessa would let Brooke hold her extra tight on those nights, Brooke’s arms desperate for something to fill them.

“Yeah.” She doesn’t meet Vanessa’s eyes when she says it. 

“You don’t con anymore?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke shakes her head. 

“I could tell. You haven’t been in your usual fancy clothes.” Vanessa could just stare at Brooke for hours back then, in the silky black dress charged to someone else’s credit card, in the high-waisted red skirt that hugged every curve, even curled up on the couch in her worn gray sweatshirt and kitten pajamas. Brooke was always beautiful, and Vanessa would have to be blind not to admit it now, even as mad as she is. 

“Fancy, huh?” Brooke raises her eyebrow and Vanessa’s heart skips a beat. 

“You know what I mean. You used to wear those real glam clothes. Like a model. Not that you don’t look good now, I mean--shit. I’ll stop talking.” Vanessa’s face is way too hot for March. And what the hell does she think she’s doing, telling Brooke she looks good? Smiling back at Brooke’s smile?

“You look good too. Always.” Brooke takes a breath and pushes her mug aside. “Vanessa?”

“Yeah?”

Brooke sighs and tears a hand through her hair. “I know you said no apologies, but I need to do this. You deserve the truth. I never meant to give you up. I swear I didn’t.” 

“You—“

Brooke shakes her head to silence her, face so deadly serious Vanessa goes quiet. 

Brooke takes another breath. “Vanessa, I gave you up because it was the only way to protect my daughter.” 

“You…” Vanessa trails off, unable to process the words. Somewhere beneath the shock, her mind rationalizes that the cartoon Band-Aids and children’s medicine suddenly make sense. “You...a daughter?”

Brooke nods. 

“How long? How...the whole time we were together, you lied to me?” She darts from confused to angry to hurt and back again. Brooke has lied to her for who knows how long, has a daughter and maybe a whole secret family somewhere. 

How did Vanessa not know Brooke was hiding something like that? All the nights spent curled under the sheets together, the dinners they shared, the hours strolling down the street and laughing, and she never knew Brooke was hiding this inside her. How had Brooke not trusted her enough to tell her, when they trusted each other with everything?

Brooke nods fearfully. “She’s two. I’m only allowed to see her once a month.”

 _Once a month…_

“You didn’t do workshops on Saturdays, did you?” Vanessa asks, clarity hitting her again. 

“No. I was going to tell you, I really was, but I didn’t because…” Brooke buries her face in her hands, body shaking with the sobs she never wants anyone to see. She looks so small, so _fragile_ , just seconds from shattering, and Vanessa can’t take this anymore. No matter how mad Vanessa is, how long she was lied to, Brooke is clearly not all right, and Vanessa can’t stand by and let Brooke suffer when she knows how to help her. 

All the confusion and hurt inside her melt away, and she leads Brooke to the couch, sinking down at her side, drowning in hesitation. Finally, she strokes Brooke’s wrist, watching her pale skin break out in goosebumps, gently lowering Brooke’s arms to reveal her splotchy, tear-stained face. 

Vanessa wipes the tears with her thumb, the cheek beneath her new and familiar, exciting and comforting. “It’s okay, Brooke,” she breathes. “But I think you have some explaining to do.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Vanessa apologized to Brooke, and Brooke confessed that she has a daughter  
> Now: Brooke explains her story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback on this fic! I really do appreciate all your comments, they make me so happy and encourage me to keep going. I know we could all use a little distraction right now, so please enjoy this chapter, and comment if you'd like! Thank you to Writ for being the best beta and helping me SO much with this chapter (seriously, it was a 10k monster before Writ helped).

Brooke is still sniffling as Vanessa moves her to the couch, trembling with vulnerability. Vanessa is the only one she could be vulnerable around, who wouldn’t tell her to stop crying and grow up like her parents used to. Vanessa would wipe her tears, just like she’s doing now, and Brooke can’t bear the familiarity, the warmth of Vanessa’s fingers, a warmth she never thought she’d experience again. 

She reaches for Vanessa’s hand, fingers intertwining, and Brooke knows she has to explain, but she wants to hold Vanessa’s hand just a bit longer, absorbing memories from her skin. 

“I…” it bubbles up into another sob, one Brooke would cover her face to hide if she could let go of Vanessa’s hand. But she can’t let go, not when Vanessa’s touch is the only thing holding her down, keeping her together. 

“Shh, breathe first,” Vanessa says with a softness Brooke doesn’t deserve. 

Brooke listens, air entering her lungs in one great breath, holding and releasing like her dance days. Once she was in front of the audience, she’d be fine, her body taking over and performing without thought. It’s the same power she got doing cons: normal, nervous Brooke was gone and confident, cool Brooke was in her place, perfectly poised and polished, never questioning what she had to do. Nothing could hurt her when she was like that.

She thinks it’s going to hurt now. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Brooke admits. 

“I don’t either, with you droppin’ that soap opera stuff on me.” Vanessa smiles and Brooke manages a nervous laugh. Somehow, despite her stomach turning somersaults, Vanessa makes her feel safe, quiets down the noise in her head. 

“I always wanted to have a baby,” Brooke starts after another breath. “I couldn’t afford IVF or adoption, so I started small cons to save up. And Frank came along. He did business stuff. I never understood it, but I think that’s what I was to him. A business proposition. He’d pay for the baby, and I’d be his trophy.” She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. 

“I didn’t love Frank, or like him, really, but I thought I could make things work, so I went through with it. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but I’ve been on my own since I was 18, and I just...I wanted to buy a new coat for once. I wanted to actually have food in the refrigerator. To not freeze because I couldn't pay the heat bill.”

Brooke isn’t proud of what she did. For so long, she was on her own, scraping by, going to bed with her stomach growling, piling on sweaters to keep warm. Running on pure determination and fighting to make a better life for herself. But she didn’t have to fight anymore with Frank, and she had pushed her stubborn independence aside, pushed aside who she is just to live comfortably, to eat a whole meal instead of just an apple that she pretended filled her up. Sharing a bed with someone she didn’t care for, who didn’t care for her, so he could show off his perfect wife and she could have a baby she was desperate to care for. 

Brooke squeezes Vanessa’s hand harder. All the shame she felt, all the things she didn’t want to feel and didn’t want Vanessa to know, the self-hatred she’s carried for years, are pressing down on her, and she might crack beneath the strain.

“It’s okay.” Vanessa soothes, and Brooke finds strength to continue. 

“So anyway, we did IVF, and Zoey, she...she was born early. About six weeks early, and her heart...it was really weak. For a while they didn’t know if she would make it.”

Vanessa sucks in a breath and rubs slow, soothing circles on her back. Brooke’s chest tightens with that old fear she had while stuck in her hospital bed, sore and exhausted, unable to hold her own baby or even see her. Not knowing if she’d ever be able to. Not knowing if the crib she picked out would forever be empty, the stuffed giraffe she bought forever unplayed with, fur pristine and fluffy when it should be tugged on and matted down by tiny hands, if the children’s books she longed to read--rhyming, tongue-twisting books with colorful pictures--would be read by other children, not hers. 

“But the treatments worked, and in a few weeks, she was okay. I lost more blood than I should’ve during the birth, and by the time we got home it was $120,000 for everything, even after my ex’s insurance.”

“Shit,” Vanessa mutters. 

“Yeah.” Brooke sighs. “But I was so happy she was okay, I didn’t mind, y’know? I would’ve paid anything for her.”

The rest comes out in a tumble. How Brooke was so worried she couldn’t sleep, would be up all night to make sure Zoey kept breathing. How any cough or wheeze from Zoey made Brooke’s heart pound, fingers already dialing the pediatrician. How the fragile arrangement between her and Frank began to fray, him yelling at her and blaming her for everything, then snapped all at once.

“He conned me, in the end. He did some shady insurance thing where he took the payout and kept the bills in my name, so I got stuck with the $80,000 that was left. Then he sued me for custody, for more insurance fraud shit he’d get with a kid. He had the judge right in his hand. Said I worried too much about her and it wasn’t healthy, and he made more money so if Zoey got sick again, he could pay for treatment. I wouldn’t be able to. I didn’t...I didn’t have enough money for a good lawyer, and he won. He took her. He took my baby.” Brooke lets out a shaky sob, shocked she has any left. 

“All the things I thought I’d miss if Zoey didn’t make it--first steps and first words and birthdays… I missed them all anyway, cause he took her, he just fucking…” she sucks in a breath, attempts to wipe her tears away despite the fact that they’re still falling. “He didn’t even want her. He just didn’t want me to be happy. So I started conning again to pay my bills, and then I met you…”

Before she knows it, she’s in Vanessa’s arms, face buried in Vanessa’s chest as she breathes in the familiar scent of Vanessa’s mango body wash. It’s funny--of all the things Brooke thought she would miss about Vanessa, she didn’t think it would be her body wash. But now, even though her back twinges and neck aches from the awkward position, it’s like an anchor, yet another thing for Brooke to anchor herself to as she feels her heart slow, her fingers steady as they rest on Vanessa’s hips. All the while, Vanessa rubs Brooke’s back and whispers soothing words that she can’t make out, little comforts that warm Brooke’s heart just at the caring, gentle tone they carry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was… Scared.” Brooke says hoarsely into Vanessa’s skin. She forces herself to sit up, and the concern in Vanessa’s eyes washes over her, and Brooke knows she hasn’t stopped loving Vanessa. She’ll _never_ stop loving Vanessa. 

Vanessa is quiet and Brooke’s palms are sweating. For all the times she imagined telling Vanessa, pictured her reaction, she doesn’t know what she’ll get. Brooke has no idea how she herself would react, and Vanessa’s face, usually so open and expressive, betrays nothing. 

“I get that you were scared,” Vanessa says finally, and Brooke flutters with hope despite herself. “I just... how could you keep that from me for nine months? Why would you want to carry that yourself? We were a team, Brooke! You should’ve told me, I could’ve helped you!”

There’s anger there, but not fierce, red rage. Just a light anger, frustration that’s tinged with hurt. Hurt that Brooke lied, but also hurt because Vanessa couldn’t help her. Hurt not on her own behalf, for being lied to, but hurt on Brooke’s behalf, that Vanessa wasn’t there to comfort her. 

And there were so many times that, selfish as it is, Brooke wished Vanessa could’ve comforted her. Times when Zoey cried after their day ended, and Brooke took the long way home to get her own tears out so Vanessa wouldn’t see. Times she wanted to vent her frustrations and cry over how much of Zoey’s life she was missing. Brooke just wanted someone to hold her and tell her it would be okay, even if she couldn’t believe it, and she denied herself that comfort because she couldn’t risk telling Vanessa. 

“I know.” Brooke sighs. “When we did the gallery cons last summer, I wanted to save up for a retrial. But...I guess I didn’t want it to be real? I didn’t want to tell you everything and get my hopes up in case the con didn’t work, or I lost the trial. It was safer to just not bring it up. And I...how could I tell you something like that and expect you to stay?”

How could Vanessa still love her after that? No one had ever loved her that much. Her parents disappproved of everything from her sexuality to her dance career. Frank blamed Zoey’s bills on her, said everything was her fault. Vanessa is the only person who stayed in her life. The only person who made her feel good, made her feel _loved_ , and Brooke was too afraid to lose that love. 

“I would have, though,” Vanessa says sincerely. “I love--I loved you, Brooke. It might’ve taken me a while to come around, and I probably woulda been pissed you lied, but it wouldn’t have changed anything. I swear.”

Vanessa’s love was always unconditional, and Brooke knows she’s telling the truth. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s more, isn’t there? About why you didn’t tell me. I know you, Brooke.”

 _Because I didn’t want you to think of me the way I think of myself_ , Brooke doesn’t say. Because surely Vanessa wouldn’t love her anymore if she knew how Brooke had failed. She would see all the things Brooke could have done, all the things she _should_ have done, would see what a terrible person Brooke was for letting her daughter slip right through her fingers. 

If she could afford a therapist, they’d probably have a name for it, but the truth is, Brooke didn’t want Vanessa to see all the horrible things she saw in herself. If Brooke didn’t tell her, Vanessa couldn’t judge her or be disappointed in her, the same way Brooke was disappointed in herself. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was a bad mom. That I didn’t fight hard enough to keep her. I know I didn’t do enough, and that’s why I lost her…” 

“Brooke, no.” Vanessa’s voice is firm. “I would never think that. _Never_. He took advantage of you. That’s not your fault.”

“I don’t even deserve to get her back,” Brooke sniffles, sure she’s right. “I couldn’t do enough to keep her in the first place.”

Vanessa’s eyes burn with sadness that fades into determination. “Hey. Listen to me.” Vanessa gently lifts Brooke’s chin and locks trusting eyes with her. “You deserve to have your daughter and you’re gonna get her back. This con is gonna work. I swear to you, Brooke, it’ll work, and you’ll have Zoey again. I _promise_.”

Brooke’s not sure what it is; maybe the fierceness of Vanessa’s words, the way Brooke trusts her without a single doubt, or Vanessa’s eyes flickering to her mouth, but suddenly she and Vanessa are moving perfectly in sync, growing closer until their lips meet. 

Maybe it’s because she’s been without this for so long, but it feels like their first kiss, everything new and exciting yet familiar, every inch of her skin buzzing from the touch of Vanessa’s lips. 

She doesn’t know how she’s survived without Vanessa’s kisses for six months, and from the way Vanessa’s chest heaves as she leans into Brooke’s body, the feeling is mutual. 

Brooke whines when Vanessa pulls away, resisting the urge to tug her back. 

“Bed?” Vanessa asks. 

“Bed.” Brooke agrees.

\---

_“Damn, we’re good,” Brooke says, weighed down with her share of $5,000._

_“Told you, we’re unstoppable,” Vanessa says._

_Brooke pulls her closer, because their weeks of careful planning and scouting and scheduling had worked, and their plan to pose as a fake artist and fake buyer driving up the price of artwork they didn’t own caught the attention of a rich old man, who went to the bank and shelled out the money right there._

_Brooke has never held so much money, and it totals to hardly anything when compared to her bills, but she won’t let that steal her joy. It worked, and she and Vanessa can do so much more._

_Brooke stands tall with confidence, the kind of confidence she only ever got from dancing or conning, the kind of confidence and pride in herself that hadn’t been able to grow with her parents criticizing her every move._

_She knows she has to pay some bills, especially the overdue ones, but part of her wants to take that whole check and call up Ms. Cain, the top custody lawyer in the city, and get her daughter back. But she can’t. Vanessa doesn’t know yet, and Brooke can’t bear to tell her, to have Vanessa support her through the trial--support she doesn’t deserve--to set up a nursery and imagine their life with Zoey, just in case she loses again._

_They can do a couple more scams, save more money, and then, Brooke will tell her. She vows that Vanessa will know the truth by August._

_“Do you want to go to dinner?” Brooke asks. “I know we should pay our bills, but we never get to, and I just--I want to take you out. Make you feel special. Because I really love you, Ness, even if it’s hard for me to say sometimes.”_

_“Brooke,” Vanessa says softly, stroking her arm. “You always make me feel special. I know it’s hard for you to talk about your feelings, but I know, okay? I know you love me.”_

_She stretches up and gives Brooke a kiss, one that lets Brooke feel the love Vanessa has for her, love so true and enormous Brooke can't understand it at times, can’t believe someone could love her so much._

_“I wouldn’t say no to some pancakes, though,” Vanessa laughs and Brooke laughs with her, linking their hands as they stroll down the sidewalk._

\---

“You can stay, if you want,” Brooke says as Vanessa pulls her clothes on. 

Vanessa bites her lip, and Brooke knows she wants to. “I gotta check some last-minute stuff. And I think you should get some rest tonight. I can tell you’re not sleeping.” 

_I’d sleep better with you next to me_ , Brooke thinks. But it’s not fair to say that, to guilt Vanessa into things. 

“I should sleep well after that,” Brooke teases. 

Vanessa smiles. God, Brooke loves her smile. She loves how Vanessa’s eyes crinkle at the edges as her lips turn up. She loves the way Vanessa shows her teeth every time, her excitement simply too great to be expressed with closed lips. She loves how Vanessa’s smiles are so contagious that Brooke’s own lips curve upward. “You better. Don’t wreck the plan passing out on me tomorrow.” 

“Of course not.” 

Vanessa’s eyes stray to the picture on her nightstand, and Brooke’s heart skips a beat. 

“This is Zoey,” Vanessa says. It’s not a question, and Brooke’s eyes well up with more tears that she blinks away. Sometimes she feels like she shouldn’t even be called a mom because she only sees her daughter for approximately eight hours a month, because she’s not there to sing her to sleep or give her a bath or make her breakfast. But Vanessa knew without hesitation, and it’s proof that Zoey is clearly hers, a part of her Vanessa can see, even if Brooke can’t be with her. 

“Yeah.” 

“She’s adorable,” Vanessa says softly. There’s a smile on her face but her eyes are far away, and Brooke wonders if she’s imagining what things would be like if she knew about her from the start. “She looks just like you.” 

Brooke’s heart warms again, making her feel like a proper mom, but it reminds her that she owes Vanessa more. “Vanessa, um, I didn’t finish earlier, but after I got you out during the con, the police caught me. And in the station, they showed me Zoey’s picture…”

“Oh god,” Vanessa breathes, eyes widening in realization. “They made you choose, didn’t they? Me or her.” 

Brooke nods helplessly. She remembers sweating in the interrogation room, tears dripping down her cheeks. How her stomach dropped and she couldn’t breathe as the officer slid that picture in front of her, stating matter-of-factly that she’d lose her visits and any hopes of custody if she was associated with a crime. That she could be released if she just named who she was working with. 

“Vanessa, I’m so sorry,” Brooke whispers. She doesn’t know if Vanessa will forgive her, but at least she knows Brooke never wanted to give her up. At least she knows Brooke never stopped loving her. 

Vanessa just shakes her head as tears pool in her eyes. She wordlessly helps Brooke into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Vanessa looks at her tenderly, opening and closing her mouth like she can’t find the words, a rare occurrence for Vanessa. 

“I--this is all kinds of messed-up, and I need some time.” Vanessa says finally. 

Brooke feels the wind knocked out of her. Of course Vanessa needs time. Brooke can’t blame her for that. But the doubt is returning, taking over her mind, stealing her breath. How much time? Enough for Vanessa to realize she wants nothing to do with Brooke? Brooke knows she had to make the choice she made, but she still doesn’t know if she can forgive herself for it. How can she expect Vanessa to forgive her, when Vanessa had to suffer in prison because of it?

 _She doesn’t love you_ , the voices in Brooke’s head say. _She’ll never love you again_. 

Brooke forces them to be quiet, like she’s done all her life. Brooke will give Vanessa as much time as she needs, even as the ticking seconds make her anxiety spiral deeper and deeper.

“Okay,” Brooke manages. 

Vanessa reaches down and kisses Brooke’s forehead. “Sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Despite the happy sleepiness making Brooke’s body heavy, it takes hours for her to fall asleep, tossing and turning and kicking the covers away before pulling them back. But when her subconscious blesses her with dreams of Vanessa, she doesn’t even mind the lack of sleep.

\---

_“This is for you,” Brooke says, the heart necklace twinkling in the light._

_“Brooke, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Vanessa says, but Brooke can tell she loves it._

_“I wanted to.” They’ve done a few more art cons and they’ve been cautious about spending on non-essentials, but when Brooke finally has the chance to buy something nice for herself or Vanessa after so many years of struggling to buy food, how can she not take it?_

_“Put it on me?”_

_Brooke slips behind Vanessa, her fingers dancing over Vanessa’s neck. She clasps the necklace after fumbling the first two tries, her heart fluttering with the thought that she gave this to Vanessa, that Vanessa will think of her when she wears it._

_Brooke can’t resist trailing soft kisses along Vanessa’s neck, finally spinning her around and pressing one to her lips._

_“It’ll be like a good luck charm,” Vanessa says, because they’re running another art scam, the biggest yet today._

_“You’re my good luck charm.” Brooke says, pulling Vanessa close for one last hug._

\---

When Brooke wakes, sheets tangled around her legs, chest still warm from a hug that happened long ago, she hopes she can be Vanessa’s good luck charm tonight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Brooke confessed about her daughter to Vanessa and they kissed  
> Now: THE HEIST (dun dun dun)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your amazing feedback on this fic! I never expected people to actually like it this much. This chapter was tricky, so thank you as always to Writ for being an amazing beta!
> 
> Please leave some feedback on this chapter if you'd like!

The food truck Nina wrangled from somewhere rumbles over potholes toward the Met. Everyone exchanges nervous glances, the silent anticipation in the air almost overpowering Nina singing along to the _Tangled_ soundtrack. 

Vanessa holds the necklace Brooke got her in a white-knuckled fist, contemplating what it means if she wears it. Her mind reviews the points of the plan but also tries to grasp what Brooke told her last night, the horrible things she’s been through. Can she really blame Brooke for what she did, when she was just protecting her daughter? Can she forgive a lie that went on the whole time they were together?

Vanessa looks at Brooke, eyes focused on her lap. She thinks of Brooke’s tears soaking her shirt last night, the absolutely gutted look in her eyes as she told Vanessa about her daughter, like someone had ripped her heart clean out. 

Vanessa needs time to think, when she’s not about to pull off the biggest con of her life. When she doesn’t have to worry about her mom working herself into the ground, or the overdue notice on their bills. She forces her feelings aside until then, which has always been hard for her. Her feelings are constantly getting in the way, anger taking control the night she fought with Brooke, passion winning last night, pulling her into bed with Brooke when she shouldn’t have. She can’t let anything interfere with her focus tonight. 

Her stomach flutters as she trails behind Scarlet and Plastique into the ball, the gown Nina got her as soft as butter against her skin, the gold making her glow. She struts inside, casual and unconcerned. This is the most expensive thing she’s ever worn, and she’s going to enjoy it. 

Nina is on the floor with the _Vogue_ team, attending to everyone’s needs. Yvie is holed up in the truck outside, watching everything through her hacked security feed. Silky’s in waitress garb, gliding between tables. Brooke and A’keria are in the kitchen, and Vanessa finds that she trusts Brooke completely with her tasks, the weight of fear lifted from her. 

Silverware sparkles on each table, the glare off thousand-dollar gowns blinding. It’s not until now that the glitz and glamour really sink in. Vanessa will have millions after this, millions, and most of the guests would consider it pocket change, like the stray dollar you find in your coat. 

Any second now...

“People are sitting,” Nina says through their ear comms, a hint of panic emerging. 

“Let’s do it,” Vanessa says. 

She hovers by the bar, across from the bathroom Plastique will be running to later. She keeps her head down, fading into the background, wanting to be ignored for once. 

“Dishes went out for Plastique’s table,” Brooke says into her comm. If Brooke did her job right, Plastique will be hunched over the toilet about 15 minutes after eating her soup made of overpriced vegetables. Inducing vomiting is the least sketchy thing they’ll do tonight, but Vanessa can’t help but feel a little guilty about it. Still, it’s the only way, and it’s not like they’re really making Plastique sick. 

“Right on time.” Vanessa can’t stop the smile that creeps into her voice, hit with happiness that Brooke is with her.

“Are you wearing a watch like I told you?” Brooke asks. “I could’ve synchronized them—“

“You’re not putting sequins on shit. I’m looking at my phone, Brooke,” Vanessa says.

Yvie makes gagging sounds around a mouthful of whatever she’s crunching on. “Do I really have to experience this conversation with my own two ears?” she asks. 

“Tell me about it,” Silky gripes. “This ear comm is a group chat from hell. ‘Cept I can’t even leave the chat.”

“How do you think Scarlet feels? She’s stuck at that table with boring-ass rich people and can’t even talk to us,” A’keria says. 

“I wish _I_ didn’t have to talk to us,” Brooke says. 

“Back to work!” Vanessa snaps. 

Waiters hurry past her from the kitchen, balancing gleaming silver trays with dishes of salad resembling burnt tree leaves, still-bleeding steak she can eat in two bites, and bowls of murky green stuff that might have been scooped out of a pond. Give her a slice of pizza any day. 

Silky slips into the bathroom to prepare for Plastique, armed with the magnet Yvie made to take the necklace off. Vanessa knows they’re close, heart pounding in her chest, time moving through quicksand. She sips her drink without tasting and almost spits it out when Scarlet’s voice rings over the ear comm. 

“Plastique’s on the move. Bitch is looking real green. And I deserve a higher cut after what I’ve been forced to listen to.”

“I’ll give you a dollar,” Vanessa promises, positioning herself in front of the bathroom, up against the cream-colored wall within the camera blindspot. 

“You can’t even buy a candy bar with a dollar,” Scarlet says. 

“You can buy my love,” Yvie says. “But you already have that, Scar.”

“How much to buy your damn silence?” Vanessa asks.

Yvie’s reply goes unheard as Plastique sprints around the corner, the pale green tinge to her face clashing against the bright pink dress that ripples with her movements. The door slams shut, and a man in a black suit stumbles after her. Vanessa has to marvel that an entire bodyguard is required to watch one necklace. 

“Can’t you read?” Vanessa demands, pointing at the curvy gold script on the door. “It’s the women’s bathroom.” She crosses her arms and the guard sulks off to the side.

“How’d I get stuck on barf duty?” Silky laments over faint sounds of retching. “This ain’t even fair.”

“She’s puking, though?” Vanessa asks. 

“Oh, hell yeah, she is.”

“Then get in there and take the necklace, dummy!”

Vanessa’s palms sweat, breath stuck in her throat. She hears the toilet flushing inside, and mumbles too indistinct to make out. 

“Waiter’s coming your way,” Nina says. 

Sure enough, a waiter rounds the corner, and Vanessa cuts him off, nudges him toward the bathroom door just as Silky comes out, slipping the necklace between dishes stained with a thick orange substance Vanessa can’t blame anyone for not finishing. 

“Necklace is on the move,” Vanessa says, watching the tray head into the kitchen. 

It’s in Brooke’s hands now, and there’s nowhere Vanessa would rather have it. 

\---

Brooke gasps as she snatches the necklace and 112 million dollars hits her hand. It weighs seven pounds, Vanessa had said. Heavier than Zoey when she was born almost two months premature. A thousand times more expensive than the medical procedures needed to keep her little heart beating.

This one necklace is worth more money than most people will ever see. This necklace could solve all her problems and then some, for her and so many others. What’s the harm, really, in giving everyone in the group a better life--for A’keria to have her own home and Vanessa to help her mom and Brooke to get her daughter back--at the cost of one little necklace, growing lighter as the seconds pass? They aren’t hurting anyone. The only people who will even notice is the company that owns it, who owns hundreds more jewels just as expensive. 

She slides it into the soapy water where A’keria washes dishes, watching A’keria pluck it out and excuse herself to the bathroom, where her tools await. 

\---

A’keria has to admire the intricacy of the diamond, the sheer quality of the jewel, as she splits the pieces apart. It’s criminal, really, to break something so exquisite, so well-made, but she knows what they’re getting is worth far more. 

Police sirens blare outside, the loudspeaker announcing that all employees must report to the main entrance while police search for the missing necklace. A sly grin spreads across A’keria’s face, because they won’t find anything. All she has to do is get the pieces to Silky, who will get them to Vanessa, who will sell them and get their profits. 

She carefully breaks off another piece and waits for Nina to find the replica necklace and call the police off. 

\---

Nina hovers near the fountain, a hand awkwardly pressed against her hip, the replica necklace bulging underneath her dress. Vanessa and Brooke haven’t been answering on the comms, something Nina suspects isn’t a coincidence. She wonders if the two of them are kissing in some gallery room and hopes they’ve made things right. 

Police officers scurry around, one of them interrogating Plastique and Scarlet about what could have happened to the necklace. 

“Should I do it now?” Nina asks nervously. “Vanessa?”

“Do it!” Vanessa commands. 

Nina lifts the hem of her soft orange dress and lowers the necklace into the fountain. She pulls it out with a triumphant cry, running to the police to show them that she found it, and they can end the search. 

\---

_The buzz of the Nokia gets Vanessa ready. She stands up straight, dripping confidence, to pose as the fake buyer with Brooke as the fake artist. Vanessa excels as the buyer because she could attract the attention of others, and the con relies on people not only thinking the art is Brooke’s, but also worth what she’s asking._

_Brooke always says rich people will pay a lot for art without knowing anything about it, and so far, she’s right._

_“Excuse me, I’d like to buy those pieces.” Vanessa walks up to her, just as they’ve done four times now, making sure to avoid any familiarity. She can’t give anything away, not when this is the biggest con they’ve done._

_“I’m asking a very high price,” Brooke says._

_“As you should.” Vanessa raises her voice a little, two men across the gallery creeping closer to hear. “I’ll offer you $10,000 for all three.”_

_Brooke scoffs. “At least 20 grand each. No less.”_

_She and Brooke continue to haggle, Vanessa luring the men closer and closer, hanging on their every word. Finally, Vanessa backs out of the sale just short of the 60 grand, and one of the men pounces, saying he’ll happily pay Brooke’s price._

_Vanessa peeks at Brooke while the man pulls out his checkbook. She has her head down but Vanessa can see the smile stretched across her face, and a rush of affection hits her at once. She loves Brooke, loves her so much, and maybe it’s time to start saving money for a house one day, a house completely their own._

_She’s so distracted by Brooke’s shining eyes that she doesn’t notice the man watching them from the corner. She’s so busy dreaming of walking through their new house that she doesn’t notice the man pulling out his phone. She doesn’t notice anything until two police officers are in the gallery, pointing right at them._

_But by then, it’s too late._

\---

Secret mission with Brooke complete, Vanessa heads back onto the main floor, where the celebrities grumble as they return to their seats, the fake necklace safely around Plastique’s neck. 

Silky casually slaps the diamonds into her palm. Vanessa stashes it inside the special compartment she sewed in the dress, and the diamonds lightly brushing against her hip with each movement only increases her pride, making her all the more aware of what she just pulled off. The con of her lifetime, of any lifetime, 112 million dollars gone and no one the wiser. 

There’s a tap on her shoulder. 

“May I have this dance?” 

Vanessa spins around to see Brooke with her arm outstretched. She’s changed into the outfit Nina got her--a silky black sequined suit, each sequin catching the light and reflecting it at Vanessa, stealing her breath in the process. Vanessa knows it’s been a long time since either of them have been in clothes this nice or this new, and she feels like a new woman as she accepts Brooke’s arm. 

“You know slow dancing ain’t my thing,” Vanessa warns as Brooke leads her to the dance floor. 

“But it’s mine.”

They don’t talk as they glide around the floor, Brooke’s hand on Vanessa’s waist, which is just as well because Vanessa doesn’t have any words. She can feel Brooke’s heart thrumming against her fingers, her green eyes gazing at Vanessa dreamily. She’s never had a proper slow-dance with Brooke, and she’s going to savor each spin, each careful turn that Brooke guides her through. 

“You’re wearing the necklace,” Brooke says, her cheeks flushing at the gold heart dangling around Vanessa’s neck. 

“Figured we needed all the luck we could get,” Vanessa says. She tightens her hold on Brooke’s hips, not caring what it means, not caring how good the dance and the necklace make her feel. All she cares about is being here with Brooke.

“This is...nice,” Vanessa finishes lamely, because she can’t describe it. It’s a kind of weightless joy she hasn’t felt since before prison, and she doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that the feeling has been brought on by Brooke. 

“It is,” Brooke agrees. 

They keep moving even as others sit down, and all Vanessa knows is that she could do this dance forever. 

\---

_“Ness,” Brooke hisses, eyes darting toward the cops._

_Vanessa’s blood runs cold. Someone called the police. Someone who had seen them before, maybe, or thought they were suspicious? It doesn’t matter. They have to get out of here._

_Brooke snatches the check and Vanessa runs down the hall, where Brooke mapped an escape route in her plans, just in case. Vanessa has never been more grateful for Brooke and her planning._

_Brooke is behind her as she sprints to the shipping entrance by the bathrooms, slamming down on the metal bar and shoving it open. But it catches on something with a clinking sound that stops her heart. The door only opens a crack, just big enough for a child to wriggle through._

_Vanessa sees a chain holding it closed at the top. The gallery staff must not use this entrance anymore. Her heart pounds, because they’ll never get that chain off. Vanessa might be able to squeeze through, but Brooke will never fit._

_She can hear cops shouting in the distance, Brooke cursing under her breath. Tears of helplessness spring to Vanessa’s eyes. She can see Brooke’s mind frantically working, trying to think of another way out._

_“You have to go, Ness,” Brooke says firmly. “You can fit.”_

_“I’m not leaving you for the cops!”_

_“We don’t have a choice.” Brooke hands her the check. “Take it. Go lie low at A’keria’s. I’ll come get you._ Go!” _She nudges Vanessa toward the door._

_“I’m not leaving you.”_

_“Don’t worry about me. I’ll find another way out.” Brooke crouches down and begins moving Vanessa’s limbs, helping her contort through the narrow opening even as Vanessa continues to protest. She kisses Vanessa fast and hard, and the intensity she pours into it makes Vanessa tremble in fear that it’ll be their last kiss._

_“But--”_

_“I’ll protect you, I promise. Always.” Brooke pushes her through, and Vanessa runs._

\---

Seven women exit down the grand steps at the Met, hearts light and fluttery with dreams of the future. 

Nina dreams of adopting a third child with her wife, Monet; another kid to run around the house, laughing and shouting, to fill her heart beyond bursting. She dreams of writing comedy shows again, performing in front of a crowd and letting their applause etch a permanent grin on her face, a career she gave up a decade ago. She dreams of second chances. 

Scarlet dreams of a space where the designs she drew as a little girl in her princess bedroom can come to life, for everyone to see the beauty that’s only ever been in her head. She dreams of seeing her clothes not only on famous people, but on regular people, well-made and priced so anyone can wear clothes they feel good in. She dreams of sketching in a cozy house with Yvie at her side. 

Yvie dreams of setting up an internet cafe with its own computers for everyone and free coffees and baked goods. She dreams of returning to school to get a master’s with no worries about loans, having more time to do her hacking, to expose criminals. She dreams of typing away on a big couch with her long legs thrown across Scarlet’s lap. 

Silky dreams of walking into the principal’s office and paying off the lunch debts for the whole school so no child has to go hungry. She dreams of the new supplies she can buy for her classroom, the crafts kids can make with the markers and paints and colored pencils, the colors and laughs that will fill the room. She dreams of a giant house where she can soak in a tub and eat chocolate while she grades papers. 

A’keria dreams of focusing on herself, to have a home where her mother didn’t track her every move and her father didn’t tell her to get a better job. She dreams of brushing the dust off her old business cards and designs, of a little boutique where she can create her own bracelets instead of polishing someone else’s. She dreams of people giving her designs as gifts to those they loved. 

Brooke dreams of breaking all possible ties to her ex, the bills he caused disappearing. She dreams of walking into a new house with her daughter secure in her arms, to fill the kitchen with laughs as they bake cookies, to see her smile every day. She dreams of time home with her daughter, time to learn to love herself again, and maybe, if she’s lucky, time with Vanessa.

Vanessa dreams of those bills vanishing into thin air, of moving her mom into a nice house and having time to relax without all-day shifts. She dreams of finding a new place for herself and Riley, to rediscover herself and what she wants to do. She dreams of endless possible futures she can live, and if a certain blonde woman creeps into a few of them, the dream only becomes that much brighter. 

And when Vanessa asks Brooke to stay over at her house tonight, she feels she’s one step closer to that dream.

\---

“I can’t believe we did that,” Brooke slurs as she pulls off her suit. “You’re brilliant, Ness. Super brilliant. Like, your brain must be so, so big.”

Vanessa suspects some of the praise is fueled by the amount of wine Brooke had at the ball, but Vanessa accepts it anyway. Besides, she’s still high on champagne and the success of the mission, and Brooke’s cheeks are flushed as she giddily puts on the pajamas they stopped by her place to get ( _‘It’ll be like a sleepover, Ness!’_ ), and Vanessa has to smile. 

Brooke is struggling with her shoes, her normally nimble, graceful fingers fumbling at the straps, and Vanessa carefully unfastens them for her, lifting Brooke’s legs and pulling the shoes off, then helping her step into plaid pajama pants. 

“Still got them toes, I see,” Vanessa teases. 

“Of course I do. Where would they go?” Brooke asks in confusion, and Vanessa stifles a laugh. She’s always loved the soft Brooke that needed Vanessa to take care of her. Brooke was so used to taking care of herself, taking care of them both, that it was nice to return the favor, make Brooke feel as cared for and as loved as she made Vanessa feel. 

“Okay, time for bed,” Vanessa commands, herding Brooke under the covers. She’s put Brooke to bed two nights in a row, and it’s hard not to enjoy it, especially when Brooke smiles as Vanessa pulls the blanket up, melting into the soft fleece. “It’s 2am. You need to sleep.”

“‘M not tired,” Brooke whines with a pout, eyelids fluttering in her effort to stay awake, like she’s afraid Vanessa will disappear if she can’t see her. 

“Sure you are, baby.” The _baby_ slips out before her champagne-addled brain can stop it, and Brooke’s smile makes her even warmer than the liquor. 

“Okay,” Brooke agrees. She squints at Vanessa. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

Oops. 

So what if Vanessa just happened to grab it tonight? It was on the top of her clothes pile, the room a little too hazy to dig through her dresser for proper pajamas. So what if the soft cotton feels nicer than the thousand-dollar dress she had on earlier? It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Maybe.” Vanessa gives a coy shrug. 

“I’ve been looking for that!” Brooke gets that cute pout again, and Vanessa has to resist the urge to kiss it away. 

“You know it looks better on me.”

Brooke nods, the motion quickly turning to a yawn. 

“Sleep, Brooke.” She can avoid Brooke’s lips but not her cheek, pressing a light kiss to the still-rosy skin.

Brooke is asleep in seconds, her even breaths almost lulling Vanessa to sleep as she stands. She’s about to join Brooke under the blankets when the door opens, her mother home after another late shift. The moment seizes her, and Vanessa needs to ask her something, now. 

“What are you still doing up?” her mom asks, dropping down at the kitchen table with leftover pizza. 

“Um, can I ask you something?” Vanessa asks, biting her lip. 

“You can ask me anything, honey. What is it?”

“Okay, let’s pretend you and Dad stole something together and I was really young. And you could tell the cops you did it all and let Dad go free, but you’d never see me again, or you could put Dad in prison so you could be with me. What would you do?”

The intense look in Vanessa’s eyes must be enough to stop her mother from wondering why she’s asking such a strange question at 2 in the morning. 

“I would choose you. I love your father, and I wouldn’t want to send him away. But you’re my baby, Vanessa. Even when you’re grown, you’re still my baby. I’d do anything to protect you.”

 _He took her. He took my baby._ Brooke’s teary voice rings through her head. 

Vanessa kisses her mom and numbly returns to her room. Brooke is curled up on her side, knees bent— _her knees always got in the way_ , Vanessa thinks fondly—with her arms drawn against her chest, looking like they’re burning with emptiness, aching for someone to hold. 

Vanessa watches Brooke sleep, her mind spinning. Brooke didn’t want to hurt Vanessa; she just wanted to protect her daughter. Her baby. Yes, she lied for nine months, but Vanessa can’t blame her. Brooke had just been hurt too many times to take the risk that Vanessa would hurt her too, toss her aside like a broken doll as her parents and ex-husband had done. 

Vanessa has always been empathetic, crying over movies since she was a child because she felt it all so deeply. The emotions of others easily rubbed off on her, and she absorbed them like a sponge. She’d come home from the makeup store jittery with the nervous excitement of a teenager off to prom, the hopefulness of someone treating themselves to a makeover after a breakup. But Vanessa can’t even begin to understand how terrifying and lonely things must have been for Brooke. 

A husband who used her to make himself look good. Who took away the baby Brooke had been so desperate for, just for money and revenge. To have her daughter there one day and gone the next, leaving Brooke completely alone, too scared to tell anyone as the secret ate her up inside. To have the police use her daughter against her. Constantly getting hurt, over and over, so that keeping the secret was the best way to protect herself. 

Aside from her secret, Vanessa never had reason to doubt Brooke’s love for her. Brooke was always open and honest with Vanessa, even when it was hard for her. Brooke sighs in her sleep and Vanessa thinks of the nights they spent together, laughing at episodes of _Parks and Rec_ they’d seen five times. How she could roll over in the night and Brooke would be there, her presence soothing. How she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Brooke’s snorting laugh, the little hairs that escaped her ponytail and sprung around her face, how she’d give Vanessa her jacket when Vanessa forgot her own. 

She hasn’t stopped loving Brooke, no matter how mad she was, how hard she tried to pretend. 

Vanessa slips beside her—there’s not really room for them both but she doesn’t care, misses sleeping with Brooke too much. She nestles herself against Brooke’s chest, Brooke’s arms wrapping around her, holding her tight, weighing Vanessa down with safety and adoration. 

“I love you,” Brooke mumbles into her neck, and Vanessa stills. 

There’s a lot of things that could have caused it. It could be the wine, or the high of success, or the fact that Brooke is still half-asleep. 

The same could be said of Vanessa, but when she returns the _I love you_ , she means every word.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: The Mateo's Eight succeeded in their heist  
> Now: the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your support and feedback on this fic, it really makes me happy and has been cheering me up during isolation right now. I'd really appreciate it if you could leave some feedback on this chapter. Thank you Writ for being the best beta!

Everything is soft and warm as Brooke blinks awake, the woman in her arms easing her pounding head. 

Vanessa’s sleep-tangled hair tickles Brooke’s nose, the faint scent of her coconut shampoo soothing Brooke’s stomach, churning on nothing but wine. Vanessa stirs, rolling over to face Brooke. Even rubbing sleep from her eyes with a lion’s yawn, Vanessa still makes Brooke’s heart leap. 

“Mornin’,” Vanessa whispers. 

Brooke tries not to overthink, tries not to consider what she and Vanessa are right now. Her head hurts too much for anything beside Vanessa’s sleepy smile.

“Morning,” Brooke says. She brushes hair off Vanessa’s face, fingers ghosting over her cheek, smiling when Vanessa leans into the touch

“I should’ve stopped with the champagne,” Vanessa groans. “It’s ruining my glory.”

“It’s worth it,” Brooke says. She turns onto her back and pulls Vanessa with her, Vanessa’s head nestling against her chest, a perfect fit against the curve of Brooke’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe it.”

Brooke hasn’t fully comprehended it yet, passing out seconds after Vanessa tucked her in last night. Tomorrow she’ll call Ms. Cain’s law office, do everything she can to get Zoey back and then...she can do anything. She hasn’t let herself plan much yet, tried not to let dreams take shape, in case the con failed. She didn’t want to start drawing the future only to have the pencils ripped out of her hands. But she has the money, she’ll have the lawyer, and she’s one step closer to shading in that new life. 

“I know. It doesn’t seem real. I just…” Vanessa sighs against Brooke, the puff of air warming her chest. “I can tell my mom she doesn’t have to worry about bills anymore. I can buy her a house, and it’s nice, y’know? I can take care of her for once.”

“Yeah,” Brooke agrees. 

“And not only that...like, I can pay for someone’s groceries if I want.”

“Or leave a big tip for a server.”

“Yeah!” Vanessa sighs again. “I should get up. Got some last things to do before we all meet next week.”

“You need help?”

“No, it’s nothing big. Thanks, though.” 

Brooke rises reluctantly, stretching her limbs and wincing as a passing car roars directly into her ears. 

She looks at Vanessa, Brooke’s sweatshirt hanging off her tiny frame, making her even more adorable. “I haven’t slept that well in--”

“Six months,” Vanessa answers for her. 

“Yeah,” Brooke agrees, wondering how many sleepless nights Vanessa’s had, if neither of them could sleep without the other. “Could do without the headache though.”

“Tylenol and pancakes?” Vanessa offers. 

Brooke nods. 

\---

_Brooke sprints through the gallery, heart racing in time with her legs. She has to get out before they catch her, or she’ll lose her monthly visits and any hope of gaining custody. She can hardly breathe through the fear, lungs burning in her chest._

_At least Vanessa got out, and she should be safe at A’keria’s. Still, Brooke’s worries only grow, threatening to consume her as she searches for the basement delivery entrance._

_She should have never done this for so big a profit. They got lucky with the first four, but this was pushing it, and she can’t be surprised things got out of control. But they had been so careful, never choosing galleries in the same burroughs, even going upstate once. But it didn’t matter. Obviously there was a mistake somewhere, and Brooke can’t afford to pay for it._

_She shoves open the door, bright summer sun blocking out the world for a second._

_When she sees the two police officers waiting, she wishes the sun had swallowed her up._

\---

It’s easy to sink back into their routine. Almost too easy. 

After downing Tylenol, Brooke sets the table while Vanessa commands the stove, flipping pancakes and swatting Brooke away because she’s not dealing with the ER if Brooke injures herself ( _‘It was one time! I didn’t even need stitches!”_ Brooke protests, but relents). 

March sun peeks through the window, a hope of spring, and it’s like any other morning for them, purposely bumping into each other and letting their touches linger, Brooke tossing chocolate chips in her mouth when Vanessa isn’t looking.

“Think I can flip this like on the Food Network?” Vanessa asks, lifting her frying pan temptingly, pancake sliding around inside. 

“Doubt it,” Brooke says.

“Come on, I got skills!” Vanessa protests, grin wider than her face. 

“I don’t know why you’re even asking. You know you’re gonna do it,” Brooke says, smiling fondly. Vanessa never needed anyone’s permission to be herself, and Brooke had--no, _has_ \--always loved her for it. 

“You right.” Vanessa jerks her arm up. The golden pancake flies into the air, smacks against the ceiling, and plummets to the floor like a failed rocket launch. Riley scampers after it, tail wagging furiously as he munches. 

“Oops,” Vanessa says, and then they’re roaring with laughter, Brooke laughing so hard tears stream out of her eyes, her stomach aching in a good way, a way it hasn’t for so long. 

“Good thing Riley was on cleanup,” Brooke says once they sit down. 

“Good thing I made the pancakes. Even Riley wouldn’t have eaten yours,” Vanessa says, but her eyes are kind. 

“Hey!” Brooke pouts around a mouthful of pancake, but the truth is Vanessa’s pancakes are the best, perfectly golden and fluffy. 

“It’s true.”

They eat in an easy silence, listing the dumbest things they can buy, things too excessive to actually waste money on, and Brooke knows she’ll do anything she can to keep this going. Even if their relationship isn’t exactly what it was--and it probably _can’t_ ever be exactly what it was--Brooke wants to do this, wants to discover new parts of Vanessa. 

She’s about to open her mouth when Vanessa beats her to it. 

“Brooke?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can I take you on a date this week? With dinner and no scams?” Vanessa's smile is hopeful, and Brooke’s stomach leaps with the memory of her own date offer, all those months ago.

“I’d love that,” Brooke says.

\---

_The interrogation room is what she expected from TV: cold, puke-green walls, a metal table and two chairs, and a window Brooke can’t see through. A bare bulb burns her eyes with its brightness in the dim, gloomy room._

_The first detective she was handed over to in the station--a smiling Good Cop--seats her in the chair, her back already aching, and attaches her handcuffs to the table._

_“Let’s get to the point,” Good Cop says, sitting across from her. “You’re a scammer. You pretend to be an artist and take people’s money.”_

_Brooke doesn’t answer._

_“The woman who escaped. Is she the ringleader? An associate?”_

_Brooke knows they can take anything she says and twist it around, and she has to protect Vanessa. Her heart is pounding so loud the detective can probably hear it. She has no idea what’s going to happen to her. Will she have a trial, or go straight to prison, or will they release her if she doesn’t confess? She knows she’s given a lawyer, but she doesn’t know when, and she knows the detective is withholding information to scare her into confessing._

_She can’t let him know it’s working._

_“You did this alone, then?”_

_Brooke stays silent, heart freezing in her chest as the questions continue. She fights to keep from shaking, keep herself from crying, because she can’t let them see how scared she is, paralyzed with fear over how she’ll get out of this and keep herself and Vanessa safe._

_Bad Cop--the second detective--enters with a manila folder and the smug grin of a lion who knows his prey is cornered, nowhere for it to run. It’s the same face Frank had in court, and Brooke curls in on herself._

_“I believe you have a daughter?”_

_He slaps the folder on the table. A picture of Zoey smiles up at Brooke, and her heart stops._

_How was she stupid enough to think they wouldn’t know? Despair lurches at her, clouding her vision. She’ll lose her visits and she’ll never get a retrial. The handcuffs are tighter than ever, like they’re squeezing her chest as she gasps for breath. There’s not enough air. She can’t breathe, and she’ll never see Zoey again--_

_Vanessa comforted her when she got overwhelmed by bills, coaxing Brooke into deep breaths and distracting her with work stories. There’s no comfort now, Brooke drowning in fear so deep she doubts there will ever be comfort again._

_“You receive one Saturday a month with her?” Bad Cop plows on, not even pretending to care as Brooke trembles and chokes on air her lungs won’t accept._

_“W-why are you asking if you kn-know the answer?” Brooke snarls breathlessly, unable to keep quiet anymore._

_“Hey,” Bad Cop warns. “It gets even colder in here at night. Behave, and maybe it’ll get warmer.”_

_Brooke understands his meaning at once, and she realizes just how much power they have, realizes she’s helpless in their hands. There’s no planning or conning her way out of this. She’s already lost._

_“I-I want a lawyer.”_

_“You’re gonna be here a while. It’s almost midnight, and tomorrow’s Saturday. You’ll be in a cell until Monday at least. But you don’t have to go through all that. We can help you.” Good Cop is so genuine Brooke’s terrified mind almost believes him. “You’ll lose your visits with a criminal record. Any jail time, and you won’t see your daughter again. I know you don’t want that. I don’t want that either.”_

_He leans in closer, and even though he’s been Good Cop, his smile is anything but kind. “We’ll make you a deal. Give us the woman’s name, and you’ll be released with no record. You’ll see your daughter again.”_

_Her lungs beg for air, but she can’t give them any. Her stomach twists in horror. Give them Vanessa and keep her daughter, or go to prison and lose her daughter, her baby._

_“We’ll let you think.”_

_They exit in triumphant silence. Brooke lowers her head into her cuffed hands and begins to cry._

\---

Brooke nervously sits across from Vanessa. The Italian restaurant is cozy and warm, and Brooke is bursting with the same hopeful anticipation she had on their first date. 

“So,” Vanessa says, crunching on garlic bread. 

“So.”

They break off into nervous giggles, and Brooke grins back at Vanessa’s smile. 

“Um, I think we should talk about stuff. About us,” Vanessa says. 

“Okay.”

“I think if we’re gonna do this, we need to, like, be honest with each other,” Vanessa says. She sighs and shakes her head. “This was A’keria’s idea. She said we needed to talk it out, but…” she trails off with a light smile. 

Brooke takes a breath. “Well, let’s start with the honesty thing. Everything I told you about Zoey is the truth. I promise there’s nothing else. No more secret kids.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t know if I could take two of ‘em.” Vanessa grins. 

“And um, I still love you,” Brooke blurts. “I mean, I want to have a relationship with you again. I know I hurt you, and I can’t take it back, but I really am sorry, Vanessa. And Zoey will come first for me, I have to be honest, but I would never love you any less. So if you’d want to do this again, maybe start fresh, I’d love to. I really would.” 

A weight lifts from Brooke’s chest and she puffs out a breath. She said her piece, however jumbled, and all she can do is wait for Vanessa’s reply, like when she told her about Zoey. Brooke chews garlic bread to avoid biting her nails off. 

“Brooke, I...it’s complicated, y’know? I mean, you had to do what you did. I don’t know what I would’ve done differently in your place. But I still went to prison, and that’s...something I gotta work on.” Vanessa takes another breath, reaching for Brooke’s hand, the squeeze so soft and loving it fights Brooke’s nerves away. “I get why you kept Zoey secret, but I won’t lie, it hurt that you didn’t tell me. You gotta promise not to keep stuff like that from me anymore. But I...I still love you too. Being with you again made me see how much I missed you. Missed us.”

“I missed us too.” Brooke holds Vanessa’s hand tighter, trying to put all the missed hugs and kisses, all the fears that she lost Vanessa forever into it. She doesn’t want to let Vanessa go ever again.

“We gonna go slow and work on things, maybe do couples counseling or somethin’, but you’re worth it, Brooke. _We’re_ worth it.”

Brooke nods, seeing nothing but love in Vanessa’s eyes, a love that will do whatever it takes to mend their hearts, keep them together. She would lean over and kiss Vanessa, all the other couples be damned, but the waiter sets their plates down and the smell of lasagna breaks the moment. 

“Hey, uh, you want to look at houses with me?” Brooke asks, still in disbelief that she has enough money for one. “No matter what happens with--with the trial, I want to buy one.” It’s part of her fresh start, her new life, one she’s thankful every day for. 

“Of course. I gotta look at places for my mom too.” Vanessa bites her lip, eyes softening. “Did they set a trial date?”

Brooke shakes her head. “It might be a month or so. The lawyer’s still building the case.”

Vanessa reaches for her hand again, and Brooke takes it. Her meeting with Ms. Cain--who told Brooke to call her Shuga, an old nickname--went well, and Shuga thinks they have a great shot. But hope isn’t something Brooke knows, and she doesn’t want to latch onto it. To be this close and lose it all again--it’s easier to live how she always has, one day at a time. 

“We need some kind of award after tonight.” Vanessa sighs. 

Brooke laughs. “Wanna get cupcakes?”

“Is that even a question?”

\---

The warehouse comes alive Sunday, everyone jittery as they wait for Vanessa to dole out the cuts. 

“Okay, I have everyone’s cuts, and I want to review some things.” Vanessa is cool and business-like, and the group hangs on every word. Brooke doesn’t think anyone has taken a breath since Vanessa stood up. 

The door opens, and gliding across the warehouse floor, in a tailored red coat and a large black scarf, is Plastique Tiara. 

“Y’all are fucked,” Plastique announces, plopping on the couch like it's a lazy Sunday afternoon, oblivious to the open-mouthed stares. 

“What the hell is she doing here?” Silky demands. 

“Is it normal to have the person you conned be in the group?” Nina asks seriously. “I don’t know, I’ve never done this before.”

Vanessa holds up her hand to quiet the murmuring. Brooke peeks over at her, and she nods, both of them stepping forward. 

“We invited her,” Vanessa explains. “Brooke and I decided to let her in on it, since things were a little suspicious.”

“Hey, you finally got your Mateo’s Eight, Vanj,” Silky says. 

“And eight shares of the necklace is better than seven shares of nothing, right?” Brooke asks. 

Everyone nods, though they still look warily at Plastique, and Brooke can’t really blame them for being suspicious. She was skeptical of the plan too, afraid of anything that would jeopardize her money, her future, but Vanessa convinced her it was the safest option. 

“What tipped you off?” A’keria asks Plastique. 

“I’m not the total idiot the magazines say I am,” Plastique says. She points to Scarlet. “You took way too many pictures of that necklace, there’s no way I threw up without something causing it, and I recognized _you_ ”--a finger aimed at Vanessa-- “when the cops showed me your picture.”

“The cops are looking for us?” Nina gasps. 

“I can’t go to prison! Do you know how bad orange looks with my hair?” Scarlet moans.

“No one’s going to prison,” Vanessa says. 

“‘Cause I saved your asses by saying I never saw Vanessa and she didn’t take the necklace,” Plastique cuts in. 

“But they have you on camera,” A’keria says. 

“Hey!” Vanessa barks, and everyone listens. “The company who owns the necklace knew it was a fake, obviously. They assigned an insurance investigator, and since I have a record, they checked my alibi. I’m on camera, but nowhere near the crime scene, thanks to Yvie’s blindspot. I’m even on the camera far away seconds after it took place. Perfect alibi. None of us are suspects.”

“So who is?” Silky asks. 

Brooke cuts in. "Well, the bodyguard, the waiters--"

“I planted a piece on someone at the ball with his investment company. Left a tip with the investigator on where to find it. And this is where it gets good.” Vanessa rubs her hands together, and Brooke frowns in confusion. This isn’t the plan Vanessa told her, and maybe it’s part of the ‘last things’ she did the morning after the con. 

“I hired four old ladies to sell off the necklace, piece by piece, and transfer some of the profits into his investment company. Just enough to be noticeable, to pin the crime on him.”

“Doesn’t that change our cuts?” Yvie asks.

Brooke grins smugly and winks at Vanessa, who motions for her to open the closet. 

“See, we didn’t just take one necklace,” Brooke explains. The squeaky hinges open to reveal the collection of glittering jewels they stole from the historical exhibit, the bigger mark only she and Vanessa knew about. The ultimate distract-and-grab.

“Holy shit,” A’keria breathes. 

“Is this why you wouldn’t answer me on the comms?” Nina asks. “I thought you were making out somewhere.”

“Wait, did you make out? ‘Cause then I owe A’keria five bucks,” Yvie says. 

“We didn’t make out--” Brooke begins.

“--In the exhibit.” Vanessa finishes with a wink, everyone erupting into shouts and cackles. 

Brooke waves her arm to restore order. “While everyone was looking for the necklace, Vanessa and I snuck inside the historical exhibit. We made more copies of the jewels with the 3D printer and replaced those too.”

“Which, by the way, raises the cuts to 38 million each,” Vanessa says. 

“Holy _shit!_ ” Silky screams. 

A delirious joy fills Brooke to bursting as the others thank her before tangling together in a many-armed hug. 

Vanessa pulls Brooke aside amid the chaos of Nina forming a kick line and Silky parading through the warehouse with Plastique on her back. 

“I know I didn’t tell you about planting the diamond,” Vanessa says quickly. “I wanted to keep you safe.”

Brooke pauses, her mouth hanging open. It’s been years since someone cared about her safety, and it makes her warm with Vanessa’s love. 

“Frank was there with his investment company. I planted part of the necklace on him and put the money in his account.”

“Vanessa…” Brooke can’t speak. Her ex-husband will be the main suspect, and Brooke can’t pin down what she’s feeling. Glee that he’s getting what he deserves. Hope that his criminal activity will tip the court in favor of Brooke taking Zoey. Fear that it won’t work, that he’ll come after her or Vanessa—

“Hey,” Vanessa says softly. “I see you spiraling. Don’t worry. Your name wasn’t listed at the event and you’re not on camera, so they can’t link you to it. I have an alibi. We’re both safe. And listen. I didn’t tell the cops to search Frank yet. If you don’t want me to, I won't tell them. We’re safe either way.”

Brooke thinks of the scamming Frank has done, money falling into his lap and the law bending to his will. She thinks of how he screamed at her until she cried, how he always insulted her to his friends, his insistence that she didn’t deserve to be a mom, didn’t deserve anything he gave her. It’s no guarantee of jail time, but he should get probation at least, and it’s what he deserves. 

“Do it,” Brooke says firmly. “Let him pay for what he’s done.”

Vanessa nods, pulling Brooke down on the couch. Brooke doesn’t even know she’s crying until Vanessa gently wipes a tear from her cheek. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Vanessa whispers. “You don’t have to worry anymore. It’s okay.” Despite the chaos around them, Brooke is completely at peace, Vanessa her calm refuge in a storm. She snuggles closer, wrapping an arm around Vanessa and resting her head on Vanessa’s shoulder, holding each other tight and dreaming of their future together. 

\---

“I think this is the one, Brooke,” Vanessa says. 

“I think you’re right.” Brooke stands in the kitchen, imagining Zoey’s laughs as they have breakfast. The house is ‘move-in-ready’ according to the realtor, with space for Zoey to grow and a dining room large enough for the Mateo’s Eight (as Vanessa calls the group) to have dinner. 

Looking at houses with Vanessa has somehow been one of the best months of Brooke’s life. Maybe because Vanessa pretends they’re an obnoxious HGTV couple who sell kites for a living ( _‘Have you_ seen House Hunters, _Brooke? These are real jobs people have’_ ), gasping with the realtor over high ceilings and open floor plans. She always asks about schools in the area and discusses paint color for Zoey’s room, and the fact that Vanessa’s still here, still supporting Brooke after everything, brings tears to Brooke’s eyes. 

She looks into the dining room, ready for her friends to sprawl out laughing and talking. She imagines Vanessa meeting Zoey while they have dinner and curl up watching a movie together. She pictures a Christmas tree shining by a crackling fire, decorating with Zoey and watching her open presents, Brooke’s heart warmer than any blaze. 

“I’ll take it,” Brooke says. 

\---

_Zoey or Vanessa. Her daughter or her girlfriend._

_Brooke can’t hold in the sobs now, trembling so much the whole table teeters with her._

_She’s already missed so much of Zoey’s life. She wasn’t there to catch Zoey when she fell after her wobbling first steps. She wasn’t there when words tumbled from her lips the first time. She’s not there to soothe Zoey after a bad dream, to hum lullabies while rocking her back to sleep. And she’ll miss so much more if she goes to prison._

_She won’t hold the back of a bike seat while Zoey pedals. She won’t lead Zoey into kindergarten and hang up her drawings on the refrigerator. She won’t light candles on birthday cakes or measure Zoey’s height or buy an outfit for an awkward middle school dance or decorate a graduation cap, won’t see who Zoey grows up to be._

_But what is she condemning Vanessa to? She thinks of Vanessa locked behind bars that snuff out her spirit, being caged when Vanessa is so free. Vanessa will think Brooke gave her up on purpose, all because Brooke was too afraid to tell her the truth. Vanessa will suffer in ways Brooke can’t imagine if she gives her up._

_But if she doesn’t, Zoey will grow up not knowing her mother, maybe even thinking she had abandoned her. No matter how much she regrets what will happen to Vanessa, Brooke can’t lose her daughter. Not again._

_“You ready to talk?” The detective must’ve been watching her, but Brooke doesn’t even care._

_Choking back one last sob, Brooke nods._

\---

Brooke doesn’t think she’s ever been this nervous. 

Not when she had principal roles in dance recitals, not when she met Vanessa, not even when she was in the interrogation room. Brooke sits quietly next to Shuga in the tiny, stuffy courtroom, staring straight ahead to avoid Frank. She shrinks into her chair, feeling like everyone is judging everything she’s ever done, that they can see inside her soul.

Shuga hits all her points for Brooke gaining custody. Brooke has never missed a visit. She has a clean record, a steady job, and a new house, while Frank’s lifestyle isn’t kid-friendly and he’s facing possible jail time. Her boss at the studio, Kameron, even serves as something Shuga calls a character witness, saying how dedicated Brooke is. The lawyers go back and forth like a tennis match, shooting out legal terms so long it’s a wonder they don’t choke. 

She wishes Vanessa was here, if only to hold her hand and insult the judge’s perm, make things just a little less scary. Vanessa planned to strut into the courtroom flaunting head-to-toe pink like Elle Woods--even ready to smuggle Riley in her purse--but family court is private, and Brooke keeps her hands in her lap while Vanessa likely paces the waiting area outside. 

When the judge prepares the verdict Brooke almost throws up. Her heart creeps into her throat, blazer collar suddenly choking her, and she needs Vanessa more than ever. 

“Breathe,” Shuga whispers. For all her fierceness, Shuga has been almost motherly toward Brooke, a protective, caring warmth Brooke never got from her own mother. 

Brooke stands with the others, gripping the table before her shaky knees give out. The judge smacks her gavel in dismissal, and Brooke is so stunned Shuga has to lead her out because her legs don't quite work. 

Vanessa wears a hole in the stone floor, hair in a long stress-braid down her back. 

“Well?” Vanessa asks expectantly. She takes Brooke from Shuga, and squeezes her hands, eyes filled with hesitant hope.

“I won,” Brooke’s voice cracks, and she realizes she’s crying. “I got full custody.” 

Vanessa wraps Brooke in her arms, her hug the only thing keeping Brooke upright. Vanessa rubs soothing circles on her back, whispering how proud and happy she is, and though Brooke can’t speak, her tears are enough of an answer as they soak into Vanessa’s shirt. 

She’ll get Zoey, and they’ll be home. And though she and Vanessa still have work to do, and things may not be what they were, Brooke knows Vanessa is part of that home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooke and Vanessa restart their relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe we're at the end of this one! Thank you all so much for all the support and love you gave this fic! I wasn't sure if anyone would like it, and your support has meant so much. This one was out of my comfort zone and tricky for me and I almost gave it up a few times, so thank you times 10,000 to Writ, for not only betaing but encouraging me, reassuring me, and making sure I didn't give this one up. You're the best and ily <3 <3

For the first time ever, Vanessa can walk into a store and afford literally anything there. She tries not to let it change her, turn her into some rich asshole who throws money around. She just wants to make sure her mom is taken care of, that she has the nice things she deserves. 

She hates to think that money makes her life better, but she can’t deny it. With her cut, she pays off the bills and books couples counseling for her and Brooke and a private therapist for herself, to sort out the tornado of emotions swirling inside her. 

On one hand, she wants so badly to be with Brooke again, to pretend prison never happened, pretend that nothing’s wrong. But sometimes the sky threatens to crush her, or she looks at Brooke and sees the woman who sent her to prison--even if she doesn’t blame Brooke, because she had no choice--and it’s hard to forget and just be normal. 

But she’s working on it. Every two weeks she plops down in a gray armchair and talks to her therapist about readjusting to freedom, about seeing herself as a person again, rather than a prisoner. It’s hard, and sometimes painful to relive things she just wants to ignore, but it’s working, the ache in her chest easing almost imperceptibly when she walks outside and sees April flowers poking through the dirt. 

There are no words for telling her mom the bills are gone, that they can breathe again. Her mother cries and hugs Vanessa as fiercely as she did after her dad died, when that hug was the only thing keeping them together. They sink to the floor, a mess of tears and relief and freedom. Vanessa surges with pride, finally doing something good after all the stress she caused her mother. 

For the first time since prison, things seem more good than bad, flowers shining brighter than the dirt. 

It takes her a day to realize that strange sensation is _hope_. 

\---

Takeout on Wednesday nights has become their _thing_. 

It started to help Brooke move into her new house while avoiding the full group chaos. The house is finished--pillows in place and pans stacked in cupboards and jungle animal prints carefully hung on Zoey’s walls--but Brooke asked if she wanted to keep coming over, and Vanessa agreed, curling up on Brooke’s couch with overflowing plates and binge-watching shows she missed in prison. 

Tonight is a big night, because tomorrow Brooke picks up Zoey to live with her, and Vanessa brings a cheesecake she’s been drooling over. 

But Brooke’s burrito is mostly untouched, tortilla chips pushed around her plate.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Vanessa asks.

“Nothing.”

“You’re worried about something,” Vanessa says. “The counselor said it’s okay to share things and need support, remember? You can tell me, I promise.” 

Brooke nods shakily, fear flickering through her eyes, and Vanessa hopes eventually they’ll share things without fear again. “Zoey was five months old when he took her. She’s only seen me once a month since then.” Brooke sighs. “What if she won’t like seeing me every day? What if she wants to go back with him--”

“Shh,” Vanessa begins, squeezing Brooke’s hand. “You’re her mom, B. I know you couldn’t be with her every day, and that’s not your fault. But you get to be there now, okay? You can do all the things you wanted together.”

“But what if…” Brooke lowers her head in shame. “What if I don’t know how to be a mom?”

Vanessa pauses, because navigating things with Brooke and Zoey is still tricky, even with the counseling. Vanessa never knows quite what to say, what’s too much involvement or not enough, still a little upset she never knew about Zoey. 

But Brooke’s chewing her lip to shreds, desperate for the support Vanessa promised, and Vanessa concentrates on that instead. She gets Brooke’s fear--it must be hard to be a mom at all, especially with her situation--but it breaks her heart that Brooke thinks she isn’t good enough. Even though Vanessa’s still accepting it, Brooke choosing Zoey over her proves how much she loves her daughter. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Vanessa says finally. “I know things with her haven't been normal, but I also know how kind and caring and loving you are. You love Zoey and you’d do anything for her. That already makes you a great mom.” 

Brooke’s lips form a line that leaves it impossible to tell what she’s thinking, whether Vanessa’s words calmed her. Before things get worse, Vanessa speaks again. “Tell me about Zoey.”

“What?” Brooke asks in confusion. 

“Just talk about her. Cute stuff she does. Anything.” Vanessa doesn’t know much about Zoey, admittedly. She’s only ever asked basic things about her, still struggling to process everything, and she thinks Brooke refrains from saying too much so it doesn’t upset Vanessa. But Vanessa is with Brooke entirely, and she’s going to try harder with her and Zoey. 

Brooke looks down. “Her--her favorite food is peanut butter and jelly. She won’t eat the crusts though. And she loves Cheerios.”

Vanessa smiles. “What else?”

“She loves animals. There’s this park I take her to, where you can feed the ducks. She gives them all names and talks to them. When she doesn’t like something, she makes this face and scrunches her mouth up and it’s the cutest damn thing you’ve ever seen. Sometimes she smiles in her sleep, and I just...I love her so much, Ness.” Brooke speaks breathlessly, pure love and passion alight in her eyes. It’s how Brooke looks at her when they cuddle, and it tells Vanessa she’s okay. 

Vanessa can’t help but smile too, a little less worried about meeting Zoey. “See? You love her, Brooke. I’m sure she loves you. I know I do.”

Brooke blushes, and Vanessa's heart twinges at Brooke blushing all this time later. “Thank you, Ness. For everything. And I love you too.”

“Now eat,” Vanessa coaxes, “so I can have my cheesecake.”

\---

Zoey’s stuff is already at the house when Brooke arrives at the case worker’s office to get her. She and Frank aren’t supposed to interact, and Brooke is grateful her shoulders won’t have to shrink, that she won’t have to make herself small around him. It’s something she’s working through in her own therapy sessions, which Vanessa suggested. 

Brooke hesitates before entering, fear trying to rise past the comforting words Vanessa pushed it down with last night. What if the judge revokes her decision and she loses Zoey again? What if she really doesn’t know how to be a mom? She’s already missed Zoey walking and talking the first time, trying new foods and discovering the world. It seemed Zoey got bigger with each visit, and Brooke was afraid that one day she’d pick Zoey up and not recognize the girl in front of her, that she’d miss too much to even know her own daughter. 

_But you get to be there now_ , Vanessa’s words remind her. Vanessa has been so kind in all this even though Brooke knows it's hard for her, and she couldn't be more grateful. And she's right. Brooke is here, and they have nothing but time. Brooke’s taking a break from work--she’ll go back eventually; she doesn’t want to be a rich asshole that sits around all day--but she has a while before Zoey starts preschool, and Brooke’s going to cherish every moment she can with her. 

“Mommy!” Zoey jumps into her arms and tears escape before Brooke can stop them. 

“It’s me, sweetie.” 

Zoey is soft and warm, smelling sweetly of little-kid shampoo. She clings fiercely to Brooke and to her stuffed giraffe, and Brooke strokes her hair. Her baby is home.

\---

_“Stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy,” A’keria groans from her bed._

_Vanessa takes another lap around A’keria’s tiny bedroom. “Something’s wrong. It’s almost midnight. Brooke should’ve been here by now.”_

_“Maybe she’s lying low, in case the cops are watching.”_

_It’s a reasonable explanation, but Vanessa can’t accept it. Deep down inside, something feels wrong. They’ve never had a con turn bad like that, never been in danger like this, and she can’t stop pacing._

_And Brooke. She hasn’t called either of Vanessa’s phones. Brooke is probably just hiding out, cautious as ever, but Vanessa can’t stop her mind from flashing to Brooke being taken away in handcuffs, being hurt by police officers, scared and alone somewhere._

_“Maybe I should call her. Or check our place.”_

_“Don’t do that,” A’keria says quickly. “That puts you in more danger. Look, I know it’s hard, but you have to stay here. Let things die down for a few days.”_

_Vanessa sighs. “You’re right.”_

_A’keria falls asleep, but Vanessa stays up all night, staring at her phone, cycling through every bad thing that could have happened to Brooke. She’s still wide-awake when the sun rises and there’s a sudden knock on the door._

_Vanessa runs, ready to jump into Brooke’s arms--_

_But all she meets are the cold arms of the police._

\---

Vanessa adjusts the flowers as she knocks, silky daffodils almost poking her in the eyes. She ignores the fluttering in her stomach as the door opens. It’s her first time meeting Zoey, and even though she’s practiced this in therapy, there’s still fear that she’ll mess up, that Zoey will hate her and Brooke will end things. 

“These are for you,” Vanessa says, passing Brooke the bouquet. “Flowers for a new place, remember?”

Brooke’s eyes reflect the memory, and she smiles. “Of course I do. They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

Inside, the house’s joy hits her in the face. There’s tiny blue light-up sneakers heaped by the door, baking ingredients piled on the counter, dolls and crayons strewn across the table, and an overwhelming sense of _love_. Vanessa smiles, knowing Brooke finally has the happiness she deserves. 

Vanessa’s heart leaps when Zoey enters the kitchen, so much like Brooke that Vanessa does a double take. She sees Brooke in the quirk of Zoey’s lips, the clever, mischievous gleam in her eyes, and the wide, toothy smile she makes when she sees Vanessa. 

“Hi there.” Vanessa crouches down, self-consciousness and uncertainty vanishing as Zoey’s big blue eyes take her in. “I’m Vanessa. I’m friends with your Mommy.”

“Nessa?” Zoey asks.

Vanessa smiles. “Close enough.” 

“Let’s get started on those cookies, Zoey,” Brooke says. 

“Cookies!” Zoey springs to the counter, and Vanessa’s heart expands to make room for her already. Zoey perches herself on a chair while Brooke carefully ties a doll-sized apron around her. 

“You wanna help?” Brooke asks Vanessa.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” A smirk crosses Brooke’s face. “You want a chair to stand on, too?”

Vanessa swats at her. She works by Brooke’s side, and this Brooke is one she forgot how much she loved. This Brooke is calm and fun, not caring when Zoey spills flour but swiping some down Vanessa’s nose, biting her lip with the same concentration she devotes to cons as she scoops cookie dough. She sees the love Brooke has for Zoey, looking at her like she can’t believe she’s real, and Vanessa understands that she’s not the only one who’s had some rough months. 

After devouring the cookies, Zoey tugs them into the living room (Vanessa almost melts when Zoey grabs her hand, chanting _‘Come on, Nessa’_ ) and asks Brooke if they can watch _Frozen_. 

Vanessa jumps at the two cats laying on the armchair, staring into her soul.

“Where’d they come from?” Vanessa demands. 

Brooks laughs. “Well, you know I always wanted a cat, so Zoey and I went to the shelter. She picked out the gray one, Apollo, but the worker said Apollo and Henry—that’s the brown—are friends, and I didn’t want to separate them.” 

Vanessa nods. Brooke has such a big heart, and Vanessa is glad she feels safe enough to share it. 

Vaness curls into Brooke’s left side and Zoey snuggles against Brooke’s right, and it’s...nice. Vanessa was hesitant to meet Zoey at first, afraid that once she saw her, the living proof of the secret that sent her to prison, that she would resent Brooke again, wouldn’t be able to be around either of them. Meeting Zoey would make things real in a way they weren’t before, when Zoey was just a name and a picture and a lie. But Zoey isn’t just Brooke’s _lie_ , she’s Brooke’s _daughter_ , a tiny living human, and Vanessa watches her nuzzle into Brooke and understands why Brooke lied to protect her. 

But Brooke isn’t lying anymore. She’s been completely honest with Vanessa, on dates and in counseling, working hard to create a strong, healthy relationship with her. It’s a second chance for them, and Vanessa won’t blow this one. 

Brooke holds them tight, and Vanessa grips back. Zoey falls asleep with her head in Brooke’s lap, a stuffed giraffe wedged under her arm. Vanessa watches Brooke stroke Zoey’s hair and finds her own hands drifting to Brooke’s hair, losing her fingers in the soft waves. Vanessa could hardly imagine Zoey when Brooke told her, and the fact that they’re all cuddling together, that Vanessa likes it this much, is an even bigger surprise. But she thinks she could get used to this. 

Vanessa knows she loves Brooke, and she doesn’t want to lose her. She knows it’ll take time to fully be free from prison, just as it will take time to get used to Zoey and rebuild her relationship with Brooke. But she wants to. She wants to so badly. She always thought the dull pain in her chest since prison was from her hatred of Brooke, but Brooke kisses her cheek and Vanessa squeezes her hand and she knows it was from missing Brooke. 

\---

“I can’t believe you invited them all for dinner,” Brooke mutters as she helps Vanessa set the table. 

“Well, we’re friends now.” Vanessa shrugs. “I thought it’d be cool to catch up with everyone.”

The dining room in the house Vanessa bought her mom is bigger than their old apartment, more than big enough for the Mateo’s Eight to have dinner. 

“Famous last words,” Brooke teases.

The night kicks off when A’keria arrives with armfuls of chips, cementing her title of master snack-picker. Silky brings what was supposed to be twelve but is actually eleven cupcakes, her way of preemptively making sure she got the one she wanted. Scarlet, Yvie, and Nina come together, passing her dishes and hugging everyone and chatting about all they’ve done since getting their money. 

Vanessa can’t help but smile knowing that she helped them all, helped Yvie go back to school and get Scarlet a bigger store and get Nina on both comedy club and adoption agency lists and find A’keria and Silky new homes and new lives. She’s made a difference in their lives, and now she can make a difference in her own, has the time and resources to figure out what she wants to do, a new start after prison. 

Even Plastique drops in, standing tall with the confidence the con gave her, confidence to tell off her sexist director and become director of the movie herself. 

“Not that it’s not nice to see you,” Scarlet begins, “but you have nothing better to do than hang around with criminals like us?”

Plastique shrugs. “It’s so hard to find other women to be friends with nowadays,” she says. “And book clubs aren’t my thing.”

“So you’d say loneliness is pushing you into criminal circles?” Nina asks thoughtfully, like she really wants to know.

“You a therapist now?” Vanessa asks Nina with a laugh. 

The rest of the night is what she’s come to expect and love from her friends: Yvie stating that she hacked both McDonald's and the White House in such a deadpan way that everyone suspects it might be true; everyone roasting Silky after she spills her soda and Silky retaliating by throwing chips; Nina genuinely asking how everyone is. It’s equal parts humor and chaos and love, and Vanessa wouldn’t change a thing. 

Brooke smiles at her all night, curling her foot around Vanessa’s under the table, and Vanessa knows Brooke is another part of her life that she won’t change. 

\---

_Brooke betrayed her._

_It’s all Vanessa can think, the only thing blaring in her brain as the police list evidence they could have only gotten from Brooke._

_Brooke betrayed her._

_The past nine months were nothing, then. Nine months of dinners and kisses and laughs. Nine months of jumping on the grocery cart while Brooke pushed her, of talking about their days while walking Riley, of picnics and pillow forts in the living room._

_All of it was nothing to Brooke._

Vanessa _was nothing to Brooke._

I’ll protect you, I promise. Always. _The last thing Brooke said to her was a complete lie._

_Did Brooke ever love her, or was their whole relationship fake, one long con to put Vanessa away? Did they offer Brooke money to sell her out, or did Brooke just give her up without a fight? Vanessa doesn’t know if it’s better or worse if Brooke at least got something out of the betrayal. How much was Vanessa worth to her? Obviously not enough to keep her safe. Not enough to stop Vanessa from being ripped away from her mom._

_Oh, God, her mom. All Vanessa wanted was to help her, and now she just gave her more pain and suffering and stress. How long until her mom hugged her again? Would her mom even want to hug such a terrible daughter? Tears spring in her eyes and she’s not going to cry in a cell. She’s not. It doesn’t matter why Brooke gave her up._

_All that matters is that Vanessa is done with Brooke forever._

_She’ll never hang a spoon off her nose just to make Brooke laugh, never soothe Brooke over her bills when Vanessa’s were just as pressing, never let Brooke rub her shoulders or kiss her lips again. They’ll never walk into a home like Vanessa imagined._

_It’s done._

_She’s done._

_She hopes Brooke suffers for the rest of her life. She hopes Brooke wakes up every day and burns with what she’s done, the pain burrowing inside her chest and cracking her ribs. She hopes each shard of memory that pierces Brooke makes her think of Vanessa, hopes the pain brings her to her knees, hopes she knows Vanessa will never take that pain away again, but would sink the knife in deeper if given the chance._

_They’re done._

_Forever._

\---

Spring blooms into a hot, dry summer that becomes a cold, damp autumn. Vanessa is at Brooke’s almost every night, making apple cakes and decorating pumpkins and brainstorming Zoey’s Halloween costume. She and Brooke cook dinner together while Zoey “helps” ( _‘You certainly taught her how to make a mess,'_ Brooke teases with a smile), both of them firmly lodged in her heart. 

She and Brooke have a date once a week, discovering new parts to each other and digging up the old parts, memories she tried to forget but now lets shine. She’s doing better with the past, her therapy helping her process and heal from it. 

“I’m gonna start looking for a house,” Vanessa says over lunch one day. “Maybe a salon to make my own too. Been so focused on my mom that I haven’t had time.”

“Are you thinking of looking around here?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to be too far from my mom. Or--or from you.” Vanessa doesn’t ever want to be apart from her again. 

“I can look with you, if you want. I have a house.”

“I know you do.” Vanessa grins. She’s pretty sure she knows where Brooke is going, but the rosy tinge to Brooke’s cheeks is too cute. 

“I mean, I can help with what to look for. Like, my house has nice closets, and the baseboards are good, and cabinets! You don’t really notice cabinets, but they’re important, and if you want to live with me for a bit to give your mom space and see if you’d want a house like mine, I mean—”

“Are you trying to ask me to move in with you?” Vanessa finally cuts in before Brooke passes out from forgetting to breathe. 

Brooke nods shyly. “If you want to.” 

“Oh, I want to. I shoulda let you keep going, see how long you talked about baseboards and cabinets before you spit it out.” 

Brooke just smiles.

“Would it be okay with Zoey, though?” Vanessa asks hesitantly. “I wouldn’t want to mess anything up with her.”

“Zoey loves you, Ness,” Brooke says. “Me and the caseworker have talked about stability for her, and you’re part of that. You really are.”

Vanessa is part of it. Not only part of Brooke’s life, but part of Brooke’s home, her _family. Their_ family. Vanessa had once dreamt of walking into a new house with Brooke, a house that was all their own, where they could make all the mess and noise they wanted without worrying about landlords. A house to eat and sleep and dance and cuddle in, where they could be themselves and _live_. 

“Of course I want to live with you.” Brooke’s smile is wide and bright and Vanessa shares it, squeezing her hand in joy. 

“You’re coming over for dinner tonight, right?” Brooke asks. 

“Yeah.” Vanessa pauses, an idea popping into her head. “Wanna have a make-your-own pizza party and set up a blanket fort? Zoey might like that.” Pizza is definitely part of Vanessa’s stability, and she can’t think of anything better to celebrate moving in. 

“She’ll love that.”

Vanessa leans across the table for a kiss, knowing her dreams have come true, that she and Brooke can have their new start and make their own traditions, a life and a happiness she didn’t have to cheat or scam for, but one she made herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
